Kingdom of Rust
by Raggdolly
Summary: Edward and Alice rely on each other to stay alive in a post-apocalyptic world, but when another woman appears to be a damsel in distress it will lead them down an unexpected road. "There is no greater monster on Earth than mankind". AH/OOC/EPOV
1. Prologue and Chapter 1: A Serious Calm

_Disclaimer: I do not claim ownership over Twilight or the characters._

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><p><strong><em>...:::WARNING_WARNING_WARNING:::...<em>**

**_...please take a moment...  
><em>**

Dearest Reader,

Welcome to another tale of suspense! I want to thank you for giving this story a chance. It means a lot that you've even taken the interest.

As you will read below in the summary, this fic is set during post-apocalyptic times, so I want to take a moment to let you know what you may be in for.

...:::...

There are many people in our fandom that are very sensitive to particular subjects, therefore they are unable to read certain types of fiction (mostly those that contain "dark themes").

If you are one of these people then consider this your warning, because this will be the only one.

I'm not saying that to be mean, I just don't want to see anyone get hurt through words, and I don't believe in spoiling people that don't wish to be spoiled before each chapter. **I can tell you there will be NO scenes of unwanted sexual advances, because everything is witnessed through Edward's eyes. However, it will be discussed by many characters.**

I ask that you please exercise care when reading material pertaining to post-apocalyptic periods. The characters you are going to meet will be desperate, deprived (of everything), brutal and mentally unsound. Even though I'm asking you to suspend reality with me for a couple thousand words a week, I'll tell you now that there are things that happen in this piece that occur every day in our real world.

And the world is not (always) a pretty place.

Thanks again, and - if I didn't scare you away - I hope you enjoy this story!

-Raggdoll

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><p><strong>K I N G D O M _ O F _ R U S T<strong>

**~. . . . -=|=- . . . .~**

**_**This is not a love story between a man and a woman. This is a story about a man and everything that occurs in his world after ours ends.**_  
><strong>

Edward Cullen and Alice Brandon rely on each other to stay alive in a post-apocalyptic world. Scavenging for food, scouring for water and pushing back un-wanted temptation, Edward fights their battles with steel, fists and guns. He prepares for the worst in any situation, and is determined to protect Alice and himself from anything and anybody that may threaten their lives.

There are few rules to be followed in the Kingdom of Rust; one is to never travel alone, and Edward feels sympathy towards a girl who appears to break that crucial rule. But after she runs away from him, terrified, will he be able to hold off the consequences from following her? He and Alice are both spun into a tattered web of lies and darkness as he's torn between the woman he must protect, and the woman he can't keep his eyes off of. (_Based off a Grimm fairy tale.)_

_**FOR: Shamatt0403 and Javamomma0921! Thank you for your donation to The Fandom Gives Back! This story is for the both of you!  
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_**. . .  
><strong>_

_**AH / OOC / EPOV**_

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><p><em><strong>. . . | . . .<strong>  
><em>

**P R O L O G U E **

****~. . . . -=|=- . . . .~****

I've never seen a more beautiful thing in my life.

Beauty is hard to come by, now; a gem in a penniless world. Yet, somehow I am surrounded by it.

It's in the amber that glistens from the strands of her ruddy hair, and the shimmer that only makes her eyelashes appear longer than they really are. She's too precious to be mine, too beautiful to belong to me.

I stroke the soft strands that have fallen on her pillow, then brush my finger against her even-softer cheek, finer than any material ever found or created. My love for her is rooted deeper than anything else that holds me to this world. She's the reason I'm here. She's my reason for existing.

I stand from her bed, which only creaks and sighs with relief the further I distance myself from her. I worry that she'll wake from the noise, but that is short-lived when she didn't move a moment later. I take my lantern from the old, exhausted bedside table, almost knocking over the small, wooden horse statue I chipped from a sturdy log when she was little, but it corrects itself before it can topple. I exhale a sigh of relief, releasing the tension that built in my chest from the potential noise.

As I look to her one last time I know my mission is complete, and I check her off my daily list. She'll be back on there tomorrow morning, of course, but for now she's at rest. I smile as I head for the bedroom door, leaving behind any dreams I have for her to capture as she sleeps. (I'm too old for those, anyway.) The glow of the lantern guides me, although I don't need it; the moon is full tonight.

I place my hand on the knob to pull the door open a little more so I can squeeze through. If I open it too much it'll squeak.

"Daddy, will you tell me a bedtime story?"

I'm caught. What woke her? My boots against the hardwood, perhaps? The squeak of the bed?

And even though I'm beyond tired and can barely carry myself from room to room without feeling my knees go weak, I smile before I turn back to her. "It's late, Sweetie. Very late."

Little, hooded eyes are peering over the pink quilt. She's still tired. Otherwise she'd be sitting up in bed, leaning against her pillow and trying her damnedest to coerce me with a playful pout.

"Please? Just a little, bitty, tiny one, and then I'll go to sleep? Promise."

The moonlight leaking in from her window and the glow from my lantern become one to fill up the darkness when I turn to her completely. I can see her features pull down as she frowns slightly while her eyes appear to grow a little wider. She's giving me _the look. _I'm very certain she doesn't even know she's doing it, nor does she realize the power it has on me.

I sigh.

I can spare a few more moments, and even though I'm full to the brim of self-doubt at her request, I walk back to my place beside her and set my light on her bedside table once more.

She reaches for my hand, wrapping her small fingers around one of my own.

I'm hers then, and I can't say no to anything she asks. Yet, still I linger, clinging to a wavering edge. I never had a good imagination. What I wouldn't give to have one now. "Mommy's a better story-teller. Wouldn't you rather hear a story from her? I'm not that good."

"No, I want you," she says in her powerful tone that's barely above a whisper.

"Okay." I gulp, and stroke my free palm against the rough cloth at my thigh. "Uh, what type of story would you like to hear?" _Please don't say anything princess-e_.

"You pick."

"My pick?"

"Do you know any about princesses? The kind that Mommy tells?"

Dammit. "Maybe I should get Mommy," I say as I start to get up.

"No!" She holds me in place with just a tug on my captive finger.

"Daddy doesn't know any princess stories, Sweetie," I respond with more sympathy than I can stand, because I wish I knew tales of magic, knights and castles, but the simple truth is I don't. I can only tell memories. They're all I know.

Slowly, the anticipation melts from her face.

What stories do I know? Do I know any fairy tales at all? Is The Three Little Pigs a fairy tale or a nursery rhyme? There's a wolf in that one, right? What was the purpose of it again? Stability of various structures during a windstorm, or something like that?

What about the kids who found the house made of gingerbread and candy in the woods? I fairly remember that one. It's Hansel and Gretel. A house made of candy can be magical, right? More magical than three pigs hiding from a big, bad wolf. That's not a bedtime story, anyhow. But how could I make it relate to princesses? I can easily change the names and some of the details. She wouldn't know the difference.

"Tell me how you met Mommy," she requests before I can restore my title as Best Dad Ever.

Her request shocks me, to say the least. I've never heard her ask how her mom and I met, and I always hoped that she never would. It wasn't a tale to tell a child her age. It's meant for when she's much, much, much older. That is, if her mom even wants it told at all... if I even want it told. Our story isn't a fairy tale.

I grin despite my thoughts churning into unsettling memories. "I thought it was my pick?"

"I changed my mind."

"Actually," I say, hoping I can rid her story idea with my re-vised version of Hansel and Gretel, "I do know one with a princess."

"What is it?"

"It's called... The Knight and the Princess. Has Mommy told you this one before?"

She shakes her head. "Is Mommy the princess?"

"She can be if you want her to."

She pulls her tattered doll closer to her, tucking it under her arm . It's so worn; a testament to how often it's pulled around by my little girl. Her friend looks so much older than her.

She straightens the quilt at her chin then says, "Okay, we're ready."

"Dolly all tucked in?" I smooth the covers as she nods.

I take a much-needed breath to soothe the knot that forms in my stomach before I begin the story. I've killed a hundred men without a second thought, but I can't tell a story? I need to get it together. "One day, a long time ago..."

"Daddy, you have to say: once upon a time."

"Once upon a time," I corrected myself, "there was a courageous, and handsome, knight that guarded a very large kingdom that was home to a beautiful princess. One day, a large storm blew away the kingdom, leaving only the knight and the princess behind."

Her eyes grow wide. "What happened then?"

"The princess told the knight that she was very scared, but the knight said, 'Don't worry. Everything will be alright. I won't let anything happen to you', and she believed him. They were so determined to find a new home, so they traveled all the way across the land in hopes of finding another kingdom that needed a new princess, but just in case they got lost, because the land was so big, the knight left a trail of rocks behind them so they could easily find their way back to their old home if they ever needed to."

I stop.

I find so much of myself in that moment, in my own words of fiction. There is something familiar about this story now that I'm recalling the plot. It's so oddly similar to that of my own life, and to her mother's.

It's the horrifying tale that I never want to remember, but it's too late.

An older world develops in my mind, along with a younger me.

It's full of anger, hate, fire, nightmares and... _her_. She's always in the back of my thoughts, smiling, but not there. She can't smile in that old world.

My heart begins to ache.

"Daddy?"

My little girl's brown eyes bring me back.

"Yes, Darling?"

"You stopped," she says.

"I'm sorry. Daddy's just tired."

"Will you finish the story?"

Finish? What will happen when I reach the end of the tale? Can I change it? Can I change the ending and leave out all the details that haunt me so?

Yes I could, and I will. She doesn't need to hear about desperate people and starving families. She has plenty of time to learn what humans must do to survive, but the time doesn't start now. She deserves magic, not reality.

I concentrate on her precious face, eager and waiting for me to answer her. Will I finish the story?

"Yes, Darling. I will."

A story like mine, however, should never be told. It belongs only to the shadows of the past.

A place where not even the bravest souls survived.

_**. . . | . . .**_

**C H A P T E R - O N E**

_A Serious Calm_**  
><strong>

******~. . . . -=|=- . . . .~******

**(One day, a long time ago...)  
><strong>

She slept soundlessly, reminding me of the eye in a hurricane; a serious calm. When everything around us moved, she was still. She was always perfectly still, and that was one of many qualities that made her a good companion, because war, even though it was loud and chaotic, was anything but.

It was a game of stillness, a world of silence. Pieces would be moved through the darkness, across a board then returned before anyone could see, but decimated if revealed they were even the slightest bit out of place when the sunlight came.

That's what my world was – an endless chess game played in the dark.

Hell, it never changed. Not really. Although, silence was different after entire cities crumbled to the ground. I don't think any man - any soldier - could deny that it was frightening at times because a long time ago there was some break in the quiet. There would be a noise to distinguish; a gun shot or a voice to interpret. It all meant that we weren't alone, we were in good company.

The men that I had come to know as my family would talk about their wives or children, releasing us from the terrible tension that had built in the darkness. Their voices were a comfort, similar to a lullaby – the only one available for a grown man such as myself. I could piece together their conversations like a puzzle without edges. Their words made sense to me, and I found rest in their conversations.

But after the explosions? After all the death?

There was just that: death – the noiseless void that didn't offer a lullaby of hushed whispers. Only an occasional wind would rustle the fallen leaves or the long grass around us. Sometimes it made me nervous, wondering if we'd been found, but when the silence continued I knew that we were alone.

We were always alone.

And that simple sentence was enough to break the mind of the strongest person, and it scared me so, but also brought astounding comfort because I found I didn't enjoy killing. As long as we were alone, my guns remained at my side and I could preserve my ammo for a time when I might really need it.

My bullets didn't belong in the head of civilians, like those two men in Phoenix, or the poor soul who attacked me and her in Houston, and all the others in between.

Her.

I was reminded of why I killed – why those men died. They tried to take her. Those persistent men who wanted nothing more than to keep her. I knew what they would do once they had her. I saw it in their eyes. They would take from her until she was dead. It was something I wasn't going to allow.

She was not property. No one was.

As long as I continued to breathe I would be sure of that.

Her warmth beside me was reassuring. Her peaceful breathing as she slept gave me comfort. It told me over and over again that I was trusted. She trusted me. I trusted her. And even though the wound in my leg stung and the night air was chilly, that simple truth – of trust – almost put me at peace.

But not at rest.

I couldn't sleep. I had to persevere to ensure our safety. It was my mission. I wouldn't fail the only mission I had now. I reminded myself every time my eyes were about to close that she was all I had, and if I fell asleep then I could lose her!

My eyes burned and furiously tried to convince me to give in, but I refused.

I refused to give into such simple notions that would cause me to fail. Even the wind seemed to try to coerce me, carrying a voice whispering pleasant temptations. It even had a familiar ring to it; the voice of my First Sergeant, it sounded like, only I didn't recall my First Sergeant ever hissing.

"Go to sleep," it said. "You'll be fine. She'll be fine. Just close your eyes and sleep. Sleep. Sleep. Sleep."

I became frustrated, and wanted nothing more than for it to leave me alone. "No, I won't!" I whispered furiously into the dark ahead of me. "Stop talking to me!"

I clutched onto my newly-cleaned pistol, angry at the persistence.

"Sleep," the voice said again. "All it takes is one shot."

"Shut up," I growled, as I placed my finger over the trigger.

"You want to," the voice hissed through the long grass.

The chilled wind blew across my face right before I buried my ears in the palms of my hands. The cold metal from the Glock shocked me as it found my cheek, and I felt myself begin to rock back and forth. My lungs came to life with a harsh sting.

"Only one shot," I heard again as the grass swayed around me, clicking and whistling.

I raised my head to look at the gun I was holding, it's shape becoming more visible as the seconds passed. One shot? But what would happen to her if I used a bullet for myself? We had discussed it before. Death was always an option, but one she never wanted to take, although I didn't know why. Maybe she was afraid of the unknown, but we faced it everyday.

It would be so easy to do, I thought, as I pointed the barrel at my temple and gently scratched my hairline with it. It would be so easy to pull the trigger, to allow myself to be taken by death, to not wonder if every sunrise would be my last. She would be better off without me.

My eyes grew hot, my already-limited sight blurring.

She'd be better off without my guns and uniform to slow her up. I was more dangerous to her than I was an asset.

But...

What if I _was_ gone?

Who would protect her? Who would keep her safe?

I lowered the pistol back to the ground, removing my finger from the trigger.

I looked to her, then. The horizon had lightened, revealing her form bundled in the blanket beside me. She was without a care, and at peace.

She was my mission.

And I wouldn't fail my mission.

For the fourth morning in a row, I watched the darkness give way to the orange, clouded sunrise, and wondered, once again, if it would be my last.


	2. Chapter 2: Weeds and Rust

_**. . . | . . .**_

**C H A P T E R - T W O  
><strong>

_Weeds and Rust_**  
><strong>

******~. . . . -=|=- . . . .~******

"There are more cars along this road than any we've seen in a while. Hell of a place to run out of gas," she said.

"More cars, more people," I reached down, mindful of the pain that manipulated my movements, and pulled up a single, tall weed that grew between a crack in the road, then placed it between my lips, "more weeds," I mumbled.

"Sexy, Red. You've really got that whole mountain man thing going on now. Beard, weed..."

"Thick beards scare people away. It's intimidating. Like a biker."

"The guns are doing that. Not your beard." She stopped in the middle of the road and looked around. "Where are we, anyway?"

"Here," I said, stopping as well and taking in our surroundings.

It was the same as it always was; weeds growing on the barren, back-road, weeds surrounding rusted cars that also surrounded the road and a forest kept it all together. We could've been anywhere, except Nevada or Arizona, because they were hot. The air, here, was mild, scentless, almost hollow and without quality. There was hardly a breeze, and when there was it didn't seem to brush all of me. Instead, it oddly pushed my hair away from my face without touching my skin.

"But, where is here?"

Where were we? _Where are we?_ "Waverly, I thought."

"No," she shook her head, "we passed Waverly a couple of days ago. C'mere." She reached for me and began to shuffle through a pocket on the side of my rucksack. She pulled out her map then began to trace her finger over the holes we dug into the thick paper to mark our journey. Sure enough, Waverly had a hole next to it. "Do you think we're almost here?" She pointed to Vicksburg.

"No. We would've seen signs." I noted the thick, blue line which represented the Mississippi River. A day's walk, maybe, until we saw those waters.

Behind us, to the west, thunder echoed. I stole a quick glance over my shoulder for a few seconds. I coolly studied the outline of the cars more than two hundred yards from us. No movement. Nothing. Another few seconds passed, and still nothing. "Come on, we've gotta find a place to rest for a little while. It's going to storm soon."

She folded then tucked the map back into its designated pocket. "Are you starting to hurt?"

"No." _Yes._

"Are you sure? You're limping."

"I'm fine." _No, I'm not sure._

The consistent movement was playing a part in my demise. Even though I was thankful we would stop and rest until the storm passed, I couldn't shake the worry that accompanied the relief.

If we stopped _they_ could catch up.

Most travelers were similar to us; passer-byres, who didn't want any more to do with us than we with them. They kept to one side of the road, while we kept to another. It was for good reason on their part, I suppose. A dressed-in-black, heavily-armed soldier might have been worrisome. They kept their distance well-enough. But, there were some that actively sought military and women.

Military: to torture and kill.

Women: to own.

Alice and I were a two-for-one deal. A tempting pair. We were swimming in an ocean with sharks that would attack for no reason. And when they attacked, I would be ready to defend us, even if that meant having to kill.

It was easy to tell who would advance just by the look in their eye, or the way their body...

"Edward, would you stop?"

My gaze with the stranger across the street broke at her words.

"You're scaring that old man," she whispered. "And get your hand off your gun!"

I dismissed my tense fingers as she sighed and kicked the lose rocks on the pavement with her worn sneakers. Whether by accident, fumbling, or purposely I didn't know, so I asked, "Are you getting tired?"

"No."

I turned to see if the old man was still walking. He was. He had no interest.

"What were you laughing about a few minutes ago?"

"Huh?" What was she talking about? I didn't recall laughing at anything.

"You were over there huffing and smiling at something."

"I don't know." There wasn't anything funny.

But she nodded and was silent for a moment before speaking again. "Did you get any sleep last night?"

Did I get any sleep last night?_ Did I get any sleep last night? _"No."

"Why not? I told you that you needed to get some sleep." She sounded concerned.

I sighed. "Because of the men that were following us."

She stopped and turned her body toward me, completely facing my direction. Her long hair was disheveled despite how often she tried to tame it with her fingers all afternoon. I wanted to press my palms against it to flatten the out-of-line strands.

"What men?" she asked. I couldn't help but glance to the west in curiosity, to see if I saw any other movement fluttering behind the cars.

"The men that were following us yesterday. We got ahead of them, but I wasn't sure if they would find us. I had to stay awake."

She appeared confused as she shifted her feet and looked to the road that we left behind us. Her gaze stayed there for several moments before she turned to me again. "Edward, I didn't see anyone, and you never said anything."

"You wouldn't. They kept covered very well, and I didn't want to worry you in case it was nothing."

"Are they still there?"

There was nothing but stillness along a river of pavement with splashes of green. The older man was further away but he appeared to be standing still, frozen in cadence. It was like a haunted painting. Even the forest, itself, seemed petrified.

I could've sworn there was someone behind us yesterday. I had that undeniable feeling that I was being watched, and every once in a while, when I looked, I thought I saw a glimpse of _someone_ cowering to hide. Usually, I was accurate, but now it appeared that it was only us on this road. Us and the old man. Perhaps they stopped? Gave up their pursuit?

"I don't think so," I answered.

Her jaw ticked, then she started to walk again, eyes to the pavement and shoulders lax under the weathered, black straps of her bag. I followed. "I'm worried."

"About?"

"You. You're starting to scare me. You don't sleep, and when you do it's only for a couple of hours. Do you know what happens to people who don't sleep?"

"They stay alive?" I responded.

"They hallucinate; see things, hear things, become paranoid. You haven't been yourself these past couple of days."

I reached forward and closed my hand around her bicep. She stopped. What was she suggesting? "Do you think I'm seeing things? That I made it up?"

"I think you're seeing what you're seeing, but maybe it's not real."

Not real? Her words puzzled me. "Alice, do you think I'm crazy?"

"Who isn't these days?"

In worry and pain, I was compelled to step toward her. The thought that crossed through my mind was greater than I could stand. "Do you still trust me?" When I caught her dark eyes she appeared surprised, taken aback. "Please say you do. I don't know how I'll get by if you don't."

Her mouth flicked upward for the briefest moment as she placed her hand on my forearm. "I trust you with my life, and much more."

I felt myself smile. She trusted me, and I trusted her. "It's gonna start raining soon. We need to find a place to stay."

******~. . . . . . . .-=|=-. . . . . . . .~******

We found shelter in an old gas station right before the rain caught up to us.

I could only pray that we'd find food, but didn't hold any hope that we would. After a thorough search under the fallen shelves and storage closets, we came up empty. It had already been picked over. Everything was already taken.

Exhausted, I unhooked my rucksack from around my waist and shrugged it off my shoulders. It was heavier than usual, and the weight almost brought me to the floor as it slid off my arms.

"Are you okay?" Alice asked. She appeared next to me quite suddenly.

"Fine."

But I wasn't fine. I was weak and my thigh hurt just as badly as the day I was stabbed. I propped myself on the cold linoleum beneath us as I tried to compose myself.

"You're not fine," she said as she knelt next to me. "I need to re-dress your leg."

"You did it this morning. Leave me." I shrugged her hands off my arm. I simply wanted to be left alone. Why couldn't she understand that?

Thunder rumbled over the building. The crowded room of rubble became darker in that moment as she left my side and began to dig through her backpack.

She sat back down beside me and handed me a little, white pill. I took it without question, swallowing it harshly without the company of water. It reminded me how thirsty I was.

"You're cold."

I felt heavier, but lighter at the same time, and couldn't deny that I _was_ cold. "Yes," I said as I laid flat on the cool floor. The back of my head came to rest on my bag.

"I can tell," she said as she disappeared from my side again then returned with the blanket, covering me with it. "You're shaking."

My lids were so heavy, so unbelievably heavy and sore. I wanted sleep badly, craved it and longed for nothing more, but my mind couldn't be put at ease. Was Alice right? Was I seeing things? Did I imagine those two men following us, or were they really there? Maybe she was right. Maybe all I needed was sleep. Everything would be better with sleep.

"Edward," she said, her voice smooth and enticing, "don't think about anything. Just go to sleep. I'll wake you when the rain passes."

I closed my eyes at her request, and began to slip away into the darkness, away from the patting rain and roaring thunder, away from her.

Peace surrounded me without the slightest hesitation as I finally gave. There was warmth beside me, and a creek of sunlight brushed my cheek then encased my chest. It was slight and welcomed. It felt nice.

Peace, then darkness.

"Sleep," I heard something hiss. "Sleep."

...

...

...

_Edward. Edward, wake up. _

_Edward. Edward! Please. Please wake up. You were right. There _were_ men following us. Edward, they found us!_

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><p>See you soon!<p>

The End Is The Beginning Is The End - Smashing Pumpkins

The Sound of Silence - Simon and Garfunkel


	3. Chapter 3: The Safety

Underneath all the reasons,  
>The one thing I believe in,<br>Just to keep you alive.

-_ Frontlines_, Nonpoint

_**. . . | . . .**_

**C H A P T E R - T H R E E  
><strong>

_The Safety_**  
><strong>

******~. . . . -=|=- . . . .~******

It was strange - the silence.

No smells.

No color; black and white with every shade of gray in between. Thick dirt, almost mud was at my face, limiting my sight. It touched my nose, but I didn't feel it. There was chaos around me. It disturbed my peace.

I looked to my left and saw the men of my company. Their dark figures were odd against the bright sky as they pulled pins from grenades and threw them forward into the air.

_BOOM!_

The explosion was so loud and so near that it shook me.

Their mouths moved, screaming at me, but they were silent.

I wanted to shout back, to tell them that I didn't understand, but I was frozen.

_BOOM!  
><em>

A side-arm fired at my two o'clock.

"Edward!"

It was her! I gripped the sandbags above my head and pulled myself up just so I could peer over the edge.

A fiery Los Angeles was in front of me. Its tall buildings leaning like top-heavy rubber over the silent explosions and panic at their feet. I stood, then, pushing myself out of the fox hole dug from the asphalt in the middle of Olive Street. I recognized Perishing Square - it was just ahead, but its vibrant colors were gone.

I wanted to call for her, but I didn't have a voice. I searched, but couldn't make out a familiar face among the crowd that ran toward me, away from the drooping buildings.

_BOOM!  
><em>

My chest heaved. I could feel the cool air in my lungs and the pressure in my chest as it filled me.

Darkened figures ran by to my right, and when I turned to see these shadows she was there.

Her short, dark hair whipped wildly around her face, succumbing to a wind that I didn't feel. Her eyes were calm despite what was happening around her, and her lips straight. There was no fear, no worry.

I wanted to run to her, to lead her away from the growing fire that threatened to take over our position, but when I tried to pick up my feet I couldn't move.

When I looked down I was sinking! Quick sand! The asphalt was quick sand!

The white city, lit with flame, was nothing compared to the ivory of Alice's skin, or the blue of her jacket. It was then that I noticed the black, familiar shape in her hand, a gun.

Was she the shooter I heard to my two o'clock?

I reached for her to help me out of the asphalt, and I could hear my voice, among other noises, begin to emerge when I called for her, as if someone turned up the volume.

There was pain in my leg.

_BOOM!_

Air filled my lungs, moving my chest roughly. I could smell musk, old items and fresh air mixing together. Alice and the surroundings began to crumble like ash. There was light, however slight. She whispered just as the last of the darkness slipped away. I breathed again, and realized that my reality was not there in fire and silence.

My eyes burned so much that I could barely open them to look at her face, but I tried so hard. Through the haze she was there, leaning over me, touching me, shaking me while holding a gun in her hand.

"Edward! Wake up!"

We were still in the station, the only difference was the glass door, which was intact when we entered, was shattered. My voice thick, I asked, "What are you shooting at?"

She shushed me. "They're out there!"

I sat up. Pain spread though my leg, once more, causing me to flinch. The medication wore off, or it wasn't helping as much as it used to. But, I couldn't think about the pain now. I didn't have time. I had to wake up. "Who's out there?"

"Two men. I was sleeping, but something woke me up. I heard them say something about you being dead, then the door opened, so I grabbed your gun and shot. They ran behind the cars near the pumps."

My suspicions were correct. We _were_ being followed. I was split between relief, because I wasn't crazy, and fear, because I knew what they wanted. "Did you get' em?"

"I don't think so," she said, out of breath.

I slid a palm down my face. The pressure felt refreshing on the skin around my eyes. I didn't sleep for nearly long enough. "Did they have any weapons?"

She shook her head. "I didn't see any, but they had backpacks."

I was concerned about guns. Surely, if they had any they would've been by their side, ready to fire. But just because she didn't see any weapons, didn't mean they didn't have any. They could be anywhere on their body. Almost everyone had something to protect themselves with. It was a factor for survival.

"What do we do?" she asked, kneeling next to me. I took the gun from her hand and released the magazine into my palm. Five bullets were left. There were nine before. Plus the ten in the M16. Out of all the ammo I saved over the past few years, that's all I had left, all I had been able to find. Mostly, the guns were for looks, to threaten anyone if they came near us. We couldn't afford to use them anymore, but I most certainly wasn't walking out there in the middle of the street to find and kill these men with my knife without knowing if they were armed. I knew better.

There was no other way out except through the same door we entered. If they were as desperate as I believed them to be, and they wanted what I thought they wanted, they wouldn't stop until they got it; my weapons and her.

I wouldn't give them any more opportunities. I couldn't lose any more sleep over them because Alice was right; it was affecting me.

"They think I'm dead?" I asked.

"That's what I heard."

I seated the magazine back into the pistol as quietly as I could so the clicks wouldn't fill the building, possibly reaching the ears of the men outside. If they believed I was dead, they'd be unprepared. "We need to get them close to us."

"How do we do that?"

"Bait 'em."

"With what?"

"You," I said.

"What do I have to do?"

I pulled the empty pistol from the holster on my left, as I slid the live one back into my right. "Take this. Call out to them and get their attention. When they start to come closer, pull the trigger, it'll click but won't fire. Act scared. Trust me, they'll come."

She took the empty Nine. "What are you going to do?"

I pulled myself into a crouch so I could move without being seen and hid behind a shelving unit close to the front. "Wait for the opportune moment. Time to put those acting skills to use, Al."

She nodded then approached the shattered door. The small shards of glass ground underneath her shoes. She closed her eyes, took a deep breath then released her fury. "What do you want?" she screamed.

It was silent for a moment, but then a faint voice responded, "To help is all! We saw you a few days ago and noticed your husband had a bad leg. We knew it wouldn't be too much longer before he died." Silence. "He's dead isn't he?"

I didn't like the way he sounded. His tone was unnerving, not trustworthy.

Alice wasted no time responding. "I'm fine on my own! I'm perfectly capable of taking care of myself!"

"Sure you are," he responded, "but there's nothing wrong with a little help is there? We have food and water."

"No one has those things!" Alice's eyes grew wide, her posture changed from frightened to panicked in only a second. Something changed out there, but she never once looked to me. "Don't! I'll shoot!" The gun clicked when she pulled the trigger, and her expression was fear. Even I believed her.

The voice sounded closer now. "Looks like you're out of ammo."

Alice stepped backward, the opposite direction of where I crouched. I was so fortunate to have her as a companion. She was smart. They would keep their eyes on her, and not see me hiding behind the shelves. "No! No, please!" she said to them. Their footsteps grew closer. The sound of wet gravel shuffling under heavy boots became louder.

The door creaked on it's hinges and very faint shadows moved across the floor. I stinted my breaths, keeping them shallow. The moment was finally here; I was going to confront what had kept me awake, the people that had been stalking us. I wouldn't lose any more sleep over them.

I pulled my Night Stalker from its sheath on my belt, the long, black blade pointing toward my intended. I stood as they came within feet of her, one man a few steps behind the other. A quick glance over their clothing revealed they didn't have guns. The closest would be first, but he was the one who turned to his right and looked to the floor where my rucksack was.

"He's gone!" he said quickly, and turned toward me, toward the door. I was there and he was mine. His dark eyes, surrounded by a full beard and long dark hair, filled with fear I knew all too well. He was smaller than me, but not by much. Definitely weaker. My body felt flush with sticky heat and my stomach turned in painful knots from hunger and nerves. There was always a question of survival; whether or not I was going to make it out alive. I learned over the years not to underestimate anyone, and these men weren't an exception.

Behind him, the other man, a little bigger in size than his companion, turned to face me as well. Just as he did, Alice slid along the far wall and ran behind me, my rucksack at her heels as she pulled it. I couldn't count the seconds that we stood in silence, staring and sizing each other up before any of us spoke, but I was the first who did. "What do you want from us?"

The larger man blinked and grinned under all the dirt and hair on his face. "Nothing," he huffed.

"Bullshit! You followed us for days! You want something!" I yelled and gripped harder onto the handle, the rough rubber digging into my skin.

"Only to help." He blinked again, losing eye contact for a moment by looking at the floor. Not trustworthy.

Anger filled my voice and pushed against my chest. "You were waiting for me to die."

"It was only a matter of time."

I jutted my head towards Alice behind me. "You want her?"

"To allow a fine creature to be in a world all by herself with no one to protect her is a shame," the smaller man said.

My teeth gnashed together. My jaw ticked, and I could feel my upper lip begin to twitch. "She _has_ someone to protect her, and trust me, I won't die _that_ easily. So unless you've got a grenade launcher in those packs of yours... unlikely... you've got nothin' that could make me surrender, and even then it's questionable."

"That goes for me, too." Her voice, along with a light tapping, resonated from behind me. I didn't have to turn to know she had the M16 out of my sack. The sound of it in a pair of hands was unmistakable.

"That's not loaded," the front man said with a smile.

Three round bursts exploded, lighting up the room and penetrated the wall behind the men. They cowered close to the floor. The sound of their heavy breathing accompanied the ticks of debris and shells hitting the floor. Seven rounds left, plus five in my pistol. I would have to remember to turn the safety on in case she became trigger happy again. I turned to take the gun away, but she was already handing it to me. I flipped the safety on before I returned my attention to the men.

My steps towards them were deliberately heavy; intimidating, I hoped. They were desperate and wouldn't stop following us. Words weren't going to keep them away. I slid my knife back into it's sheath then grabbed the barrel of the large gun. Direct access to his head, a knife wouldn't do any good here. I wanted him to feel how hard I would fight. "Regardless," I said, "I can still beat the shit out of you with it!"

I flung the butt of the gun towards the back of the shorter man's head with as much force as I could muster. The shock of his skull and flesh colliding with the metal vibrated through my arms. It seemed to wake me from my subdued reality, blew away the haze that had filtered my mind. I went at him again, and again! Each time harder and faster than the last!

Again! And again, until he no longer moved. Until he wouldn't be able to pick himself off the floor to follow us. Until a red halo formed around his disfigured head. Until he was dead.

I heaved, exasperated, then dropped the soaked gun to the floor. Red splattered across the linoleum when it landed.

The other man had pushed himself against the far wall, away from my rage-induced slaughter. I pulled my knife, then and took the same steps toward him.

"No! No! Don't kill me, please! Please don't kill me! Have mercy!" he screamed, begged. He was on his knees, fingers tied together in prayer as he stared up into my eyes.

"Get up!" I shouted.

"Okay, please... please don't hurt me," he said as he rose to his feet.

My heart pounded as it pumped the moment through my veins. I grabbed the tuft of his wet hair near his forehead, turned him and anchored his back to my chest, he reached for my wrist but he was too late. I closed my eyes and held his head against my shoulder. I pressed the straight edge of the blade to his throat then slipped it into the soft tissue. He struggled and gurgled until I completed the deep cut across his flesh.

I released him, allowing him to fall into a heap on the floor, as a tickle of sweat fell down my forehead.

"Search that one and I'll search this one," I said as I pushed the knife back into the sheath then knelt next to him to sort through his pockets. There was nothing on him except a red Swiss Army knife and a worn, black, leather wallet. I discarded the wallet into the pile of fallen shelves and rubble that was just behind me, and slid the small knife in the cargo pocket of my pants. "Anything?"

She appeared and sounded disgusted. "No. Nothing."

I began to search the bag on his back. Clothes and a small blanket. I quickly wiped the blood that covered my hands off on those, and when my fingers brushed across a cool metal object, I could barely contain my excitement. Was it what I thought it was? "Alice, I think I have something!"

"What?"

I pulled it out, smiled then tossed it to her.

She caught it. "Oh my God!" She was up on her feet with her squeal and nearly dancing around the room. I chuckled at her excitement.

"Do you know what this means?" She nearly screamed.

I joined her in the middle of the store, where she threw her arms around my neck. My thigh pulsed and burned. She was nearly climbing me! "Al! My leg! Ouch!"

She stopped immediately and apologized profusely over and over again.

"It's okay. Come on. Let's get out of here."

"Wait," she pulled my arm, "was that the only one?"

"Yup. Was there anything in yours?"

"No. Just some rags."

I pushed the M16 back into its deep pocket then lifted the sack onto my shoulders with slight difficulty. She handed me her empty prop she'd tucked into her jeans pocket. "Let's go," I said.

She picked up her bag from the floor, stepped around the body and exited through the same glass door she had shattered previously, still holding onto the gleaming, metal cylinder. I followed her path.

A quick glance around assured me that we were alone once again. The gas station sign caught my eye. A forever reminder of what had started our downfall: NO GAS!

Alice was already on the road headed east.

"Wait," I called out as I secured the sack around my waist. Patches of dry and wet blood coated my hands. I leaned down and quickly wiped them in the rough grass.

She stopped, wrapping her arms around her torso, and leaned forward with her head down. She was in such a good mood a few moments ago. My concern for her was instant. "What's wrong?" I asked as I turned my leg and moved in front of her. With that step I flinched.

She didn't speak. She sniffled and wiped a quick tear away from her cheek. I pulled on her shoulder lightly. Was it me? "Did I do something wrong?" I asked.

She shook her head, sobbing, then with a turn of her heel she slipped her arms and the cylinder between me and my sack. I furrowed my brow, curious. But before I could question her again she cried, "I saw what it would be like without you." She squeezed me harder than I would've ever imagined she could. "When they said you were dead, then started for me, I believed you were."

"But I was right there," I reasoned gently as I pulled the hair from her face then returned the embrace.

"I know, but... for a moment, it felt like you weren't."

I knew the feeling. The moment when a situation felt all too real, even though it wasn't. It happened in MILES training. Usually if one of us were hit, we'd exit the field, but for one exercise our commander wanted us to experience the emotion of the fight. If one of us "died" then we had to stay where we were tagged. The sight of so many members of my company in a ditch or next to a building, all of them "dead", was overwhelming. The situation was too real, too frightening to imagine. I understood what she meant.

"I'm scared," she whispered.

I rested my head on top of hers, even though it was a bit uncomfortable due to her height. She was my dearest friend, my most trusted ally - the only person I could depend on, the one person I would keep safe. I gently brushed my palm down the side of her head, taming those out-of-line strands that stood out earlier.

"Don't worry. Everything will be alright," I said as I kissed the top of her hair. "I won't let anything happen to you."

She looked up then, and smiled gently.

She believed me.

* * *

><p>Thanks! Next update might be a few days late next week. See you soon!<p>

_Aggressive Expansion_ by Hans Zimmer and James Newton Howard

_Frontlines_ by Nonpoint


	4. Chapter 4: Disrobing

Take this night,  
>Wrap it around me like a sheet.<br>I know I'm not forgiven, but I need a place to sleep.  
>So take this night, and lay me down on the street.<br>I know I'm not forgiven, but I hope that I'll be given some peace.

- _This Night_, Black Lab

**. . . | . . .**

**C H A P T E R - F O U R**

Disrobing

******~. . . . -=|=- . . . .~******

I once read that time was the rarest thing in the entire world; a valuable commodity.

Perhaps it was true. I wasn't a philosopher by any standard of the word.

But now, time was all we had.

We didn't have to be anywhere at any specific hour. There were no drills, no PT, no chores to be done by nine a.m.. I didn't even have to shave anymore, and I hadn't done so in what had to have been months; there was never a need for it. Instead of seconds, minutes, hours or days, our time was measured by the rise and set of the sun. It was in our pain; the ache in our feet, and the crackle in our knees, telling us our journey for the day was finished.

I knew we were getting weaker. Time was killing us. It had starved us, beat us... taken it's toll on me. I was taught to ignore all of these things, to endure when no one else could, but no more. I couldn't push past the pain that consumed me. The wound wasn't healing. If anything, it was getting worse.

It was affecting my ability to sustain the miles we needed to walk. It annoyed me, the fact that I was so weak and nearly helpless. It wasn't who I was. It wasn't what my uniform stood for.

Regardless, Alice was beginning to notice, as always. She had some superhuman ability to read my mind, or something. She could hone in even when I was trying to hide it. I started to believe my ability to manipulate my body language was waning. But it wasn't a secret that I could hide for long. Eventually she would know.

When we came to a large sign situated on the side of the highway I stopped, and repressed the need to drop to my knees.

VICKSBURG: 3 MILES

The white letters were barely legible, weathered over time. Still, I could make out the pattern against the light green and through the brown that covered the sign. Alice marked her map that she had been holding onto for hours, and determined that we were close to the Mississippi. Very close. The news couldn't come soon enough. I was ready to see the light glint off the tide, and feel water rush down my throat.

I stopped. "Ever been to Vicksburg?" I asked as I unhooked my sack and let it drop from my shoulders onto the concrete. I already felt better without it. The weight was becoming more difficult to bear.

"A couple of times as a kid. My dad had a membership to some country club."

"How much of it do you remember?"

"Err... not much. Why?"

"I have a feeling it's going to be a little more populated," I huffed and unbuttoned my BDU. I was sticky, thirsty, starved and in pain. We had to rest, build up strength for what we would find across that river. "And I don't think I'm ready for that."

I slipped my arms out of the sleeves. The mild air felt good against my bare arms.

"Here," she said as she took my top, folded it then stuffed it into the large pocket of my sack. I was surprised she was able to get it in with as much ease as she did. It was full to the brim. "We need to build a fire tonight. Are you okay to walk through the woods?"

"Yeah, I'll be fine." I stood there another moment, working up all the strength I could muster to add the weight back to my body.

She stepped next to me, reaching for the strap. "Here, let me carry it."

"No, it's too heavy for you. Stop." She continued to try to pull it off the ground. "Al, leave it. I got it."

"It's too heavy for you, too. Can't you just admit that you need help?"

I groaned as I lifted. I could feel the pulse in my thigh, and wanted nothing more than to lower it and sit back down, but I didn't. "I don't need help, Al. Not with this."

I didn't want her to hurt herself. That was the last thing we needed.

She rolled her eyes, sighed then entered the woods to our right. "Did anyone ever tell you how stubborn you are?" I limped after her, pushing through the pain that wanted to take control of my thoughts.

"Once," I called to her back as I carefully stepped over some fallen branches on the forest floor. "My last girlfriend said something very similar before she took my T.V. and my dog. Actually, she didn't even say it to my face, she wrote a note and left it on my counter."

She glanced over her shoulder. "Which country song did you lift that one from?"

"It's the God-honest truth."

"I didn't think you had girlfriends, Red. I thought you were one of those guys that didn't have time for one."

"Some of 'em deserved some type of title," I said.

"Wow." She turned her head to the side to look off into the distance. Her profile revealed her grin, and her ivory skin seemed to glow orange from the low sun.

We walked through those woods until the highway was nothing more than a memory, until there was nothing except bark for as far as the eye could see. We established a camp before it turned dark, between a set of trees near a small pond. To our surprise, the ground wasn't completely soaked like it had been at the gas station. Perhaps the rain had passed by with only a slight shower. Alice unfolded a small tarp from her bag and placed it onto the slightly damp ground. She determined we would spend the next couple of days here, watching my injury and allowing it to heal.

I dug a small hole with my hands, then started a fire with my strike kit, bark and some old newspaper that Alice kept in her pack.

The flame wasn't large at first, but with help it crackled to life. I sat on the coarse, blue material next to my sack, and let out a sigh of relief. The heat felt wonderful against my skin.

She picked up the canteen I pulled out for her. "I'm going to grab some water real quick."

No! She wasn't leaving my side. "I'll come with you." I started to get up. Fuck! I was back on the ground before I could get to my knees.

"Don't move! Jesus, could you sit still for five goddamn minutes?"

"I need to go with you."

Her eyes glinted from the flame between us. She wasn't smiling. She said, her voice low, "The water isn't even twenty feet away. I think I can manage without you for a moment."

With those words she turned. She didn't allow me a chance to respond, nor did she care what I would've said, I was sure. Her form, swaying ever so gently with each step, merged with the darkness. She was gone. I was alone with the fire that hissed and popped only a foot away, and the burn that ignited my flesh and seared me to the bone. It was uncomfortably quiet. Was this what she meant when she saw what it was like without me? Did she feel the anxiety settle in her chest and swell her lungs? What if she didn't come back from the water? How many seconds had passed? How long should I have given her until she came back?

Endless questions. Various scenarios popped into my head.

Did I really kill those men earlier? They wouldn't find us and take her away would they?

Of course not, they're dead. At least, I thought they were dead.

How many minutes had passed?

Should I call out to her? No. Yes. No... don't. She'll be back in a moment or two.

Or three.

A noise echoed without filter through the darkness; moving leaves under feet. A small shape became clear with each passing second, then she became distinguishable, unrefuted. Her face, once tinged with dirt, was clean and glistened with drops of water. She carried the canteen in her hand, which dripped from the lip. She grinned.

"What took you so long?" I asked.

"Relax. I was only gone for a minute. Do you want to eat first, and then we'll wrap your leg?"

"That didn't need to be asked," I said as I reached for her bag to find the can she had stuffed in there earlier after we found it. The contents inside were still a mystery. I was betting on some type of bean, but Alice said a green vegetable. I was pretty sure I was right.

I popped then peeled back the lid to reveal a massive amount of green-tinted liquid. Dammit.

"Well, look at that," she said. "A green vegetable."

Not just _any_ green vegetable. Green beans.

"Looks like we were both right."

"Um, no. I was right. You said beans."

I shook my head. "No, I said a type of bean. I didn't specify which kind."

"Doesn't count!" She pushed on my shoulder ever-so-slightly. "When are you going to learn that I'm always right?"

"Probably never."

We each took turns dipping our fingers into the can to retrieve a few green beans at a time. We ate slowly to preserve the feel of them in our mouth, and hopefully fill us up. Although it was doubtful. There wasn't much more I could ask for in that moment - food, a good friend and warmth.

The embers from the burning material was almost hypnotic. It was rare that we had the opportunity to safely build a fire so that we could boil water. Mostly, we were in the open. A fire was a beacon for anyone looking for travelers.

But it had been several days since we had any safe water to drink, and we were deep in the forest.

We collected as much as we could from small streams, but most of it tasted odd. When it came down to it, we never took more than a few sips. Infection was a horrible, painful way to die.

The concern poisoned my thoughts. Some time after that was when I stopped sleeping. Soon after those men began to follow us.

I hated not being at full capacity. It was dangerous.

She set her steel pot - that she found in L.A. - onto the fire. The water was already inside, ready to boil.

After the pot had been on the fire for a few minutes, she motioned at me with a quick turn of her hand. "Go ahead and take 'em off."

This was the part I didn't like. Without standing, I unbuttoned and unzipped my pants then slid them down my legs. The pain made it difficult. I gnashed my teeth together and forced myself to continue until my thighs were bare and the pants were collected at my calves.

She set the make-shift filter we made from cloth and a clear, narrow-lipped container next to me then pulled the pot away from the fire, an old shirt protected her hand from the intense heat. Steam rose into the dark surroundings as she poured the hot water onto the cloth a little at a time. She allowed it to collect at the bottom of the container for several minutes while she laid a roll of gauze in a plastic bag and a large cloth on top of my stomach.

She sighed. "We're gonna need more gauze. There wasn't enough last time."

I lay back to rest my head on my rucksack and folded my fingers over my chest. I wanted to be as comfortable as possible in this uncomfortable situation. "Well, make me a list and I'll go to the store tomorrow," I said, trying to ease the tension. Her warm hands touched my thigh. I flinched.

She shushed me and squeezed my hands with one of hers for a brief second. "Try to relax." Both of her hands were at my thigh again, working loose the tight knot she had made this morning with the thin gauze. Her skin gently brushed against mine. "The only place you'll be tomorrow is here. You have to give this time to heal. We can take a few days to rest."

I eyed her over my chest. "What about food?"

She didn't say anything. Instead, her features pulled down. I knew she was thinking what I was thinking at that moment: when we would eat again.

For me, it became easy to ignore the hunger that grew in my stomach after I hadn't eaten in several days, but it was always more pronounced after we ate very little. The pain, it seemed, only worsened; grew almost intolerable, and nothing, except more food, could stop it. It was an inevitable ache.

She fed the old, stained bandages and cloth to the fire. They were instantly caught in the flames, and were crumpled and gone within a matter of seconds. "I'm going to start," she said.

I tried to breathe deeply, as she told me to do. I grew more anxious when I heard the sound of ripping gauze then felt her skin against mine once more, near the hole.

"Relax," she said as she stroked the inner part of my thigh.

I shrank and bit my lower lip as the wound became more and more tender. Pressure began to build inside my leg, and a dull pain now resided where the burn used to be. My pulse sent tremors through the lower portion of my body.

"Almost done," she said.

I sighed heavily as she lifted the water container and removed the soaked cloth at the top and placed it back into the safety of her bag. She poured a small amount of water onto a folded, blue cloth. "It's going to be really warm," she warned.

I nodded.

She pressed it to my leg. It burned slightly, but I didn't shy away. After a moment, the short strokes were soothing and no longer discomforting. I wanted to occupy my thoughts with something else, anything other than what she was doing.

"What do you miss the most?" I asked.

She paused. "I don't know."

"I'm sure you can think of something," I urged, and propped myself onto my elbows.

She tucked her lips and said, "You first."

"Would it be petty of me to say pizza delivery?"

"Don't talk about food," she said with a slight smile. "Makes me hungry."

"So I can't say steak, either?"

"No, you can't."

"What about T.V.?"

She tilted her head to the side while making an 'iffy' face. "I used to make a big bowl of popcorn and watch movies while studying because I hated being in a quiet room. Other than that, I never cared too much for it."

I was silent for a long, steady moment while I tried my best to think of anything other than the gauze-packed hole.

"What about change? Does that count?" she asked. The stroke against my leg ceased.

"What type of change do you mean?"

"You know, potential. All the possibilities for what life would be like. The places I would see, and the children that I would have."

Her face seemed to curl. I knew the look. She was devastated by the thought. "We're seeing places you've never seen before, and you can always have kids, Al."

"With who?"

"We'll settle down somewhere, somewhere warm and sunny. We can start over again." She looked to me. "And you'll meet a man that's gonna want to be with you and have so many kids you won't be able to think straight."

She smiled and looked back down to my leg. A pinky brushed the inner part of my thigh so lightly that I wouldn't have been able to feel it unless I saw it happen.

"You really think so?"

"I know so. You're one in a million. Any man would be lucky to have you. Ahh, gentle," I begged, nearly hissing.

She began to remove the packing. "I'm sorry," she said. I'm sure if there were kids around they'd wonder if she was a magician. The gauze seemed a mile long. Fuck! So tender! "You're sweet, Edward."

Hmph. "Yeah. Don't tell everybody, okay? People will start to think I'm soft."

Freshly torn cloth circled my leg several times before she tied it off. "All done," she said as she tapped my knee with her fingertips. "You are kinda soft, you know."

I sat up and reached for my pants that were gathered around my ankles. Soft? _Soft?_ How could she think that?

"Do you need some help?" She reached for my pants.

"I got it. What do you mean? What I did today... you call that soft?"

"Not at all, but it's all in the reason. Why, do you feel guilty?" she asked as she pulled our small, fleece blanket from her bag and began to shake it out.

"I did what I had to do."

"But you have doubts, don't you?"

Doubts over what? I wasn't sure how to respond. Mostly, I didn't want to frighten her. I had a lot of doubt; how long I was going to be able to protect us forever, when we would find food again.

She sat beside me once more, then covered her legs and mine with the blanket.

"I don't know," I finally answered. "I'm just tired of looking over my shoulder, wondering if someone is going to be there to try and kill me."

She gently pushed my tags hanging at my chest with her finger. "You know what the solution to that is, right?"

I knew what she suggested. I fisted the dangling pieces of metal that swung easily from my neck. They bit at my palm with their coolness. "I know."

"So, why don't you?"

"Because it's getting colder and it'll keep me warm. And it's where I keep my ammo." But I hadn't stocked ammo in a long time.

"You haven't kept any ammo in there since you met me, and it wouldn't be hard to find a coat."

I shook my head. "You don't understand. Do you know what I had to do to wear this? How long I've waited to wear it?"

"Is that what's keeping you from taking it off? Pride?"

"Honor," I corrected. "Loyalty. Commitment."

"I think you were relieved of those things a few years ago. We do what we have to do in order to get by. I've said it before, but," her hand rested on my knee, "what you do for me every single day is amazing. You are unbelievably selfless. Hey, look at me." I did. "What those men were going to do... what all those men were going to do... they would have succeeded if it wasn't for you. And you feel bad about killing them?"

"I was trained to be selfless, that's..."

"No one can train you to be selfless, or brave. No one except yourself. That uniform doesn't define you. If anything, you define it, but there is no 'it' anymore. So, maybe, what's the point? That part of life is over."

"I've shed blood and tears to wear it. It's my biggest accomplishment."

"The fact that we've survived this long is an accomplishment. That's all that people need to see. That's all they would care about if they saw us. What else do you need to prove?" She sighed. "If I had died today, or if they had taken me, would you still be be feeling like this?"

I didn't even want to think about the idea. If she had died today, then I wouldn't be here now. If she was taken, then I'd do everything I could to find her. I hung my head, almost afraid to admit the darker side of my thoughts that loomed just behind the hopeful. "If something happened then I wouldn't be here to feel whatever it is that I'm feeling." I carefully lowered myself onto the tarp, and curled my forearm under my head. Alice followed. She wedged her shoulder under my pit and rested her head on my bicep. She seemed weightless. The canopy of leaves trembled and rustled above us. They seemed alive against the dark blue sky.

"You don't mean that," she said at my ear.

"I do. You don't know how many times it's crossed my mind."

"How many?"

"A lot. More than I can count."

Her hand crossed my torso and she pulled herself into me a little more. "Don't think like that. Ever again."

I brushed her wrist with my fingertips, but said nothing. I couldn't promise her I wouldn't. Death was always in the back of my mind, sometimes it was the forefront. Before she drifted off to sleep, she told me to rest, but it was hard to put my mind at ease with so much to think about. Regardless, I closed my eyes on the world.

Should I abandon my BDU? It wouldn't hurt to try. I wasn't gaining any benefit from wearing it. At least, not anymore.

I was lost in a world that no longer needed me, no longer wanted me. I was war without peace, a bullet without a gun. I was called a monster, a title I earned, I suppose.

Perhaps I lost my humanity. Maybe I didn't deserve to live at all, and I started to believe it. If it weren't for her, I wouldn't be alive. Even though I believed I deserved death, she told me otherwise. She gave me something to believe in. She became my God, my religion, the day she saved me. And I, somehow, through the darkness and decay, found something to believe in, and it wasn't all the luxuries people killed for. It wasn't about me. It was about her. It was about keeping her ideas safe, to protect the last person in the world that would trust in someone with a uniform.

She saved me by saying nothing, because she didn't need to. She saved me by reaching out to me, and touching, when no one else would, regardless of who I was.

I owed her much more than this. I owed her a chance to travel normally, regardless of my past beliefs. She was what I believed in, now; not some childhood fantasy, or the blood and tears I shed for some false hope or God.

I dismissed by BDU, and would leave it to rot in the confines of my rucksack as long as I protected her. My tags would be moved beneath my holey, black t-shirt. My cargo pants weren't identifiers so those would be left alone. My sack was a dead giveaway, but we couldn't afford to let it go. I would say I stole it from a soldier, after I beat him to death for it.

She was right. I didn't need those things. I only needed her, and her hope. The rest was simply past.

* * *

><p>We're almost at our half-way point for this fic. Yay!<p>

_This Night_ by Black Lab

_Still_ by Hans Zimmer ******  
><strong>****


	5. Chapter 5: The Water Siren

It's Memorial Day here in the U.S.A.. Let us always remember those who gave their life fighting for something they believed so strongly in - we, the people.

* * *

><p>It takes an ocean of trust in the Kingdom of Rust.<p>

- _Kingdom of Rust_ by Doves

**. . . | . . .**

**C H A P T E R - F I V E**

_The Water Siren_

**~. . . . -=|=- . . . .~**

I woke. There were shapes of familiarity in front of me, cracked and broken. The sweet, smokey scent of burned wood filled my nostrils as I took in a breath. There was something I felt now, that I hadn't felt in days; life. It had returned to me, however I remained still in this new awakening.

My name, her voice, echoed through the trees.

My neck ached when I tried to lift it, so I rolled onto my back and met the canopy of branches and leaves overhead. Beyond that was the pale sky, wisps of white clouds passing over slowly.

"Edward," she said then appeared above me, hovering with her hands on her knees and a smile pushing on her cheeks. The ends of her hair clung together, yet separated. Was it wet? "Guess what."

I pushed my fingers into my eyes, stirring the burn away that occurred when I woke. "Steak?"

"What's with you and steak these days?"

"'Cause it's good."

It was then that I noticed what was at her feet. Her old, red t-shirt was ripped and tied around two large branches. In the middle was a pile of small silver, gleaming fish that flopped and jumped around each other. Some landed on the dirt next to the tarp.

"Go ahead and say it. I'm amazing. Tell me how awesome I am."

"You're the most amazing person on Earth," I said with a grin.

"I know." Her lips pulled back so eloquently, revealing her happiness. "Um, I was thinking about roasting them over the fire like kabobs. What do you think?"

They were small, but probably large enough to skewer. "Yeah. I can make skewers with my knife. I just need to find the right size sticks."

"Uh, you're not doing anything. You're letting this," she pointed to my leg, "heal. Remember?"

"So, I can't move at all, then?"

"Nope."

"I can't even go wash if I wanted?"

"Not until you get better. A couple of days, maybe. You can wash here."

I lay back on the tarp. "It's not quite the same."

I couldn't begin to describe how it felt to be completely useless for the days that followed, but I didn't move from the tarp except for more obvious reasons, like using the designated bathroom vicinity. Our time was spent just like Alice said we would spend it. While I rested, she boiled water and caught minnows from the pond. I had never been much of a fish person, but I quickly became one. Even the weather showed us mercy in our bare conditions.

For days we ate and rested like kings. Our kingdom became the forest; shrouded by trees, we were at home in the leaves and dirt beneath our feet. My cares, like the signs of the human populace, was low.

I woke on our fourth day in our forest haven, and while Alice slept, I rose to my feet without heavy effort. I felt like a man again, a real man. Not some stiff puppet pretending to be something I was not. My leg, once the master of my body, didn't hold me back as I made my way to the pond Alice had been lifting water from for the past few days.

Even though the trees were blocking the late morning sun, the water still gleamed and rippled in the breeze. The air was mild. If I had to guess, I'd say it was in the high sixties. It reminded me of the single time my dad and I went camping when I was younger. Of course, we didn't rough it like Alice and I were forced to. He never really believed in that. I often wondered if he had been alive at the end of the war, if he would've survived.

I looked down to my toes covered in the dirt that coated the bank. There was a nice-sized rock that lied next to me. I picked it up and examined it with my fingers and all its rough, sharp edges, then threw it into the water. I could only imagine it scared every living thing that it landed near.

Leaves crackled behind me, then Alice and her disheveled hair appeared on my left.

"Can we just stay here forever?" She wrapped her forearms around mine. "You can build us a log cabin out of sticks, and we'll live off fire-roasted fish."

I closed my eyes with a sigh. The thought of settling down somewhere was nice. "It would be a really small cabin. Midget sized." I looked to her small frame, sizing her up for the next thing I would say. "Should be perfect for you."

She jarred me in the ribs.

Ouch.

"Not nice," she chuckled for a moment, then let out a breath of content. "I'm serious, though. We should forget Florida. Forget everything, and just stay here the rest of our lives and live off the river. I'll even let you keep the mountain-man beard."

"And scare off all the decent men coming from miles around to ask for your hand? I'd take a knife to it once a month for you." I grinned.

"You're so kind, sir."

My stretched lips slowly dissolved and my brow tightened as I stared at the sun-lit tree tops across the water. The scenery was picture perfect, or as I heard a long time ago, 'post card worthy'. Even though the water was a murky brown, it held a salvation, a power that could free all the excess filth that clung to my skin. I hadn't bathed in what I calculated to be weeks, and no matter what the conditions were, I don't think anybody ever got used to the feel of dirt under their nails or in their hair.

"So, can I wash off?"

"Should be okay. Just don't get the dressing wet."

"No shit." Even I knew that. The wound was healing nicely now. Alice had continued to pack it with fresh gauze every morning, and left it to the open air during the day, only wrapping it with a bandage (from the remaining part of her old t-shirt left, over from the man-made net) at night. In the end, I believe it was the air that helped it along.

Instead of stepping away and allowing me privacy, like she did in the past, she peeled her blue shirt over her head, revealing her pale skin underneath that flushed with her bra.

"Wha—what are you doing?" I asked and blinked several times. My eyes suddenly burned. I didn't know why.

"Bathing," she said with a grin.

It wasn't safe for us to both be so vulnerable, so exposed. "We'll take turns," I said, backing away and giving her the space she would require. "You go first."

"It's okay. No one is around for miles. No one will see." Her light voice was so convincing, so trusting, but even though it was delicate, it had the power to stop me from moving away. I had to question whether or not I heard what I thought I heard in these quiet surroundings.

She smiled as her hands moved to her pants, and I didn't look away, like some curious, perverted, teenage boy watching a girl undress for the first time. Her pants slid down her thighs then collected at her ankles before she stepped out. Heat collided with my cheeks and I turned away. I'd seen Alice undress before, but somehow this was different. It was seductive. It pulled me away from the reason and logic that kept me sane, focused.

"Edward?"

"Yes?" I answered, keeping my back to her.

"Would you mind getting the canteen?"

I nodded, and made my way to our camp. The canteen was sitting upright near the fire. It was empty.

My stomach twisted into terrible knots as I took short strides back to her. She was sitting on her feet in the grass, leaned over the edge and dipping her hands into the water.

Her dark hair spilled over her creamy shoulders that lined perfectly with her slender waist, covered in gray grime. Her shoulders, working with her arms to pull water to her face, accentuated her feminine muscles and the contour of her back, all the way to the top of her small, pink underwear.

I looked to the blue sky overhead and took in a breath in hopes that it would calm me, keep me from thinking of things I shouldn't have been thinking of.

I stopped beside her and held the canteen over her shoulder.

"Oh, thanks." She took the item from me. "Aren't you going to undress?"

Was I going to undress? Um...

"No, I'm going to wait... until you're done."

She stood, then, leaving the canteen on the grass and began to assault the hem of my shirt with her cool, wet fingers.

"It'll be okay," she said reassuringly.

She pulled the shirt over my head, leaving my tags bare.

The strength I felt earlier slipped away. I was a puppet again. And it most certainly _would not_ be okay.

"Not at the same time," I urged. I stepped away; away from her dark, hooded eyes and soft lips that begged without saying or doing anything at all!

Her expression was amused, even though she didn't smile. Did she know what she was doing to me; what kind of beast she was waking?

She picked up the canteen again then dipped the mouth into the water, filling it. She tilted her head back and poured it over her scalp. Her hair became longer. It clung to her neck and shoulders, and a sensation that had eluded me for months pushed to the front of every thought and nerve. The sight of her; the curve of her neck and her fleshy, parted lips as she inhaled around the dripping water made her indescribably beautiful.

The hairs on my arms stood on end, and the ache, which wanted nothing more except relief, ate through my bones.

I was at a crossroad on the edge of that pond, and beyond there were two very different outcomes.

There was nothing I wanted more than to preserve our sibling-like relationship. She wasn't part of my blood, but she was my family in all aspects of the word; the sister I never had.

But if that was so, then why did I have the urge to wrap my arms around her and loose myself? When I first met her, I thought about it, but those ideas faded as the world violently enveloped us. I knew what I had to do, then. I wouldn't allow such pettiness to distract me.

A soldier could never be distracted. It meant death. Sex was a silly thing to die for, but what about now? We hadn't seen anyone for days. Surely, we were alone, and the hunger I felt was unwavering. I wanted to put my mouth to her neck and touch her in ways that I hadn't touched a woman in so long. I wanted to feel her soft skin under mine however rough or callused my hands were. I could imagine her surrounding me and how warm and good she would make me feel.

I'd lose myself in her. I'd lose track of the sun and how badly we needed to be further south where the air was warmer because Fall wouldn't hold off forever.

I looked to her as my fingers stroked the waist of my pants, waiting to be shed to the ground.

She didn't seem phased like I was by this entire experience happening around us. She was always immune to such things, never taking them in. I wasn't sure she even knew what she was doing to me in that long moment while I stood on the shore, hanging on the edge of desire and catastrophe. She only grinned as she always did, that seemingly innocent grin that would never change.

My fingers were stiff as I unbuttoned and unzipped my fly. I thought I heard her faint laugh, although I didn't see it escape her lips.

I was so torn, so completely unsure of what to do in that moment. I dropped to the ground next to my shirt, my knees bent, holding my elbows which took the weight of my head. My palms were moist on my face as I pried the frustration away on my cheeks and beard. They found their way to my hair, pulling hard at the strands that were at the longest they've ever been – nearly past my ears, now.

When I looked up I found those deep brown eyes staring at me from under the beads of dripping water.

"You don't look yourself," I said. _I_ didn't even sound myself. I was possessed.

"What do you mean?"

But I didn't know what I meant; not in a way that I could tell her. To me she appeared other-worldly, almost like a water-dwelling siren that emerged from her home to tempt me into darkness from which there was no return. It was not how I wanted to think of this woman no matter how beautiful she was. She was not here for my pleasure.

Every thought stopped just as quickly as it began.

It was her. It was Alice, and I couldn't think of her like that. I couldn't think of her under me after all we'd been through, after all she told me, after all the emotions! She had a fiance before the war, and she mourned him after. She probably mourned him still.

"Are you okay?" Her voice interrupted.

I stood up and re-did my pants, pushing the bulge away. It hurt to refuse the temptation. It hurt worse than anything I'd gone through the past couple of weeks, but I knew it was right. As soon as my shirt found it's way around my body I knew I'd made the right choice. "Finish bathing. If you need me then you know what to do."

"Yeah," she said softly, "I know."

I made it safely back to the confines of the tarp. I refused to look in her direction. If I did, I knew the thought would trample back.

Hell, even without looking at her, it did.

Sex.

Fucking sex.

I breathed deeply, willing the urge to go away with the deep intakes of air.

Flash of white!

In my peripheral, through the forest, movement interrupted me, moved me. Was it my imagination?

Again!

I grabbed a pistol next to the tarp, slipped on my boots then rose to my feet. It wasn't my imagination. There was someone there, someone in the distance. Did they know about us? They were far away, venturing to the south. However, I wasn't sure they would miss the pond, and if they didn't then they would have to go around; no telling which way.

I began to follow as quietly as I could.

I wove through the trees, finding it hard to keep silent while moving over the fallen leaves and branches. They crunched so loudly that I was sure my position would be given away, but it wasn't.

Ahead, and to the left, approximately fifty feet, my target was there with their back to me. I moved behind a tree and stood as still as my body would allow. This person was wearing white. I didn't recognize the clothing, and knew that it was someone we hadn't encountered before. This particular article wasn't covered in filth, nor was it torn, which led me to believe they hadn't been wearing it long.

It was a woman. Beside her was a large metal pail that sat idle as she dipped her hands into a private pool of water and splashed it onto her face then arms, not knowing that she was being watched. I should have felt guilty for laying my eyes on her, but I couldn't conjure the emotion as I watched her wet parts of her body. She straightened and tilted her face toward the sky to brush her wet hands along her throat. Her thick, brown hair, much longer than Alice's, fell down between her bare shoulder blades.

My god.

I lowered my gun at the sight, tucking it in the waist of my black pants as she dipped the large pail into the water, filling it to the brim. When she turned I couldn't conceal myself. Our eyes locked.

Her dress, that I once thought white, was drenched in red on the front.

Slaughter.

The word passed through my mind without delay. I took a step toward her, holding out my hands. Was she hurt?

I couldn't imagine what could've passed through her mind to draw up such a reaction. Her delicate, womanly features turned with horror. The tin pail fell to the ground, and all the water inside rushed downhill. She was running away from me before I could even tell her I meant her no harm!

I called after her to wait, but she didn't stop. I wanted to chase her and grab her by the shoulders and tell her that it was alright. She wouldn't believe me. Men with good intentions didn't chase strange women. If men pursue a running woman, it's only because they mean them harm. My words would mean absolutely nothing to her and everything to me.

It was dangerous out here, and I knew it well. There were so few good people remaining. It hurt me to think what would happen to a beautiful woman like that if she were caught alone. But what if she was already hurt? What happened to her to cause the entire front of her dress to be stained red?

I ran back to the campsite to find Alice. She was just pulling on her jeans.

When she saw me she smiled, but it quickly faded. "Where did you go... what? What's wrong?"

"There's a woman out here," I said quickly while gathering my things, not bothering to attach anything to my person. "She's alone, and I think she's hurt. I can't be sure."

"So?"

"We've gotta find her. She may need help, or something."

"Or... something?" she questioned.

She didn't seem enthusiastic about stuffing our things into her backpack. Her motions were lazy and indifferent, but when I broke into a jog so did she, keeping pace with my jingle and crunching through the forest.

When I located the pail, Alice asked, "This is where you saw her?"

I nodded as I picked up the large item, now empty.

"I only wanted to assess the situation, you know, see who it was, but when she saw me..." I couldn't finish. I was nearly breathless.

"She ran off."

"Yeah."

"Well, maybe she knows to stay away from people. Especially military," she eyed me.

I began to follow the path she took when she ran off. Alice crunched behind.

"I'm sure she's fine, Edward." Her footsteps ceased, and I turned. Her hands went to her hips. "What's this really about? What are you trying to do?"

"I just want to see if she's okay."

"Why? You don't have a duty to anyone anymore." Why did she sound so careless, so desperate. It wasn't in her character to act that way. Alice had always been caring.

"Why are you saying this? What's wrong?"

Her lips parted and for once I thought she was at a loss for words. "I just want to get to where we're going. Don't you? Don't you want to stop having to worry about whether or not we're going to freezing in a few months? I'm ready to stop traveling. I'm ready to set up a life somewhere new. Isn't that what you want, too?"

"More than anything, but while we're out here, making our way through this goddamn hell, why not help people like us along the way?"

"No one helps us! It's not our job, it's not mine, and it's not yours anymore. Your mission is over. It was over the moment everything we ever knew died! It was over the moment _everyone_ we _ever loved_ died."

"Why are you acting this way? What's wrong with you?" She wasn't the Alice I knew and loved. She was another woman completely. This darker character swallowed the sunlight I once saw on her face.

I pulled at my tags through everything I held in my hand. "This means something to me," I said, my voice calm. "No matter what the conditions are, _this means_ something, Alice."

"That," she pointed to me, "has almost gotten you killed on more occasions than I care to count. It's a lost cause, something that used to be, that will never be again."

"Not to me, it's not."

She hung her head with a sigh, and turned away from me. An odd chuckle escaped her lips as she cradled her forehead in her slender fingers.

I wanted to bring her close to me, to tell her that everything would be okay, but I was dirty, and she was cleaner so I tucked my holsters under my arm, and placed a now-free hand on her shoulder, but found myself pulling her wet hair behind her ear. I was ever hopeful that she would look at me, but she didn't. Not even when I leaned in and kissed the back of her head did she turn.

Just as I felt defeated and horrible, she said, "I just want you to be happy." She paused for a moment, breathing in a few times. "C'mon, lets go find her."

I grinned, and something inside me buzzed with a sort-of joy. In that last moment of clipping my holsters to my waist and legs, Alice turned from me and wiped her fingertips under one of her eyes. She must've been tired, which gave us all the more reason to not delay in finding that girl.


	6. Chapter 6: Eden

How far we've gone  
>How far were going<br>So here and the now  
>And the love for the sound<br>Are the moments that keep us moving

- _Soldier On_, The Temper Trap

**. . . | . . .**

**C H A P T E R - S I X  
><strong>

_Eden  
><em>

**~. . . . -=|=- . . . .~**

We ventured through the forest at a pace a little faster than usual. Alice followed behind with the girl's pail in hand. More light began to filter ahead, and the trunks thinned, then we emerged onto a long, narrow, dirt road nestled against fields of tall brown and green grass that bent gently with the breeze.

"Well, where is she?" Alice asked. She looked around, blocking her eyes from the sun with her hand.

I shook my head. I didn't see her. There wasn't anything; only us as far as the eye could see. Was she even there to begin with? Of course she was. We had something that belonged to her.

I heaved the pack on my back once, pulling it higher onto my shoulders for comfort as we stepped further onto the dusty path in the middle of nowhere.

"I don't know," I answered.

"Lets just go," she said then dropped the pail. The sound echoed all around us and found it's way into the trees, lingering there longest.

Perhaps she was right. Maybe it was idiotic to try to find this girl, whoever she was. She was long gone if she had any sense. If that was the case, I was thankful. Maybe she was smart enough to survive. I began to move again, walking with Alice down an unfamiliar road, like all the days before. And as much as I wanted to go back to our place in the woods, we had to move on. Our days in that sanctuary were over.

I glanced down at her as she placed her head on my bicep which put a stint in our step, but I didn't mind. The only sounds that passed between us were under our feet. "I'm hungry," she said softly.

I didn't want to acknowledge I felt the same way. I tried to ignore the pains that began to flare earlier, but there was only so long one could ignore them. They were persistent. "We'll find something soon. What's in Vicksburg, anyway? How big is it?"

"I don't know. I mean, the only thing I really remember was the golf club. I was really little."

"Nothing else, hm?"

"Not really," she said. "Well, bits and pieces. The golf club, and the all-day drive. It took a long time to get there." I could tell she smiled then by the way her cheeks raised, but it was only slight. "My mom would pack a cooler, those big ones with the fold-over lids. She kept our favorite drinks in those. All I drank was Capri-Sun, the fruit punch kind."

"Those were good," I said with a nod.

"And she also packed snack stuff in a bag. I'd watch a DVD and ride all the way there with a Capri-Sun in one hand and a cookie in the other." She chuckled. "Needless to say I was a chubby kid."

I smiled. I couldn't picture Alice as a 'chubby kid'. She was so skinny and perfectly balanced in all areas. Then again, _I_ had never been so skinny like we were in that moment. We weren't near the point of starvation, so I still held some bulk, but my weight had decreased dramatically.

She stopped suddenly, pulling me to a halt without force. Her face concentrated as she looked down the straight road to nowhere. A sound so quiet came again on a breeze, and I knew it instantly, like a bullet exiting a Glock.

Human voices; they were indistinguishable, and just far enough off to blend together before reaching us. I felt Alice move, and in the corner of my eye saw her turn to me to ask, "Do you know...?"

I shook my head before she could finish. I didn't know what they were saying, but they didn't sound angry. It was a deep, but joyful voice that rang across the space, coming from an adjacent side road a few feet behind us that led away from our intended direction.

It came again. A man was yelling, rejoicing from the likes of his hoots and hollers. A woman followed. I saw her again in my head: the long, brown-haired woman in the forest by the lake; her dress stained red and her face wet with the water she had just covered herself with. What if it was her? Could it have been?

Yes it could.

I became curious, more-so than I should have allowed myself to become. "Alice, what if that's her?"

Her face darkened like it had in the forest. "You hear a woman?"

I nodded slowly, trying to listen harder, but it was quiet. "I just heard a man and woman a few seconds ago."

She shook her head in disagreement and protested, "I don't know. I don't know if it's such a good idea. What if it's not safe?"

"You're safe with me," I reassured. "It'll be quick. I promise. If it's her then we can return the pail and that'll be it."

I wasn't sure I gave her much of a choice. I began to walk without her consent to go or not. I felt desperate with a desire sticking to my ribs and clinging to every breath as I began to take unnaturally long strides down the narrow, dirt path behind us after I picked up the pail and brushed off the dust that clung to its sides.

"Take off your tags," Alice suggested, walking just behind me at my shoulder. "I can see them through your shirt."

A glance down proved she was right. The tags had a very obvious shape, and with the combination of my rucksack and boots I couldn't risk it, no matter how much I wanted to keep them on. I stuffed them into my cargo pocket of my pants for safe-keeping.

Soon, behind the tall grass – which was nearly over my head, a plantation-style house came into view. It was a tired, three-story building, but still stood strong, and it was very apparent that even though it was worn it was taken care of.

People lived there.

A few buildings of various sizes stood erect behind the house, encased by what would be miles of greyish, wooden fence if they were cleaned of their angles. Beyond them moved thick figures of life; horses and cows, it appeared, and my heart leapt at the sight. How did they keep these animals without someone stealing them, or were travelers through this area rare? Is this why they chose to live here?

We stood in front of that large house, and studied the features; the wide, wrap-around porch that I've heard existed in the south, the fans that clung to the ceiling of the overhang – relics that were reminders of how it used to be. Their blades were wilted; time had worn them, too. The trees that stood tall in the front provided shade over most of the overgrown yard, which was also fenced in. It was only missing a tire swing and a fresh coat of white paint for the house and fence.

As beautiful as that place was, I was sick with anxiety. What would we find beyond that yard? Would we find her? Alice pulled me back before I could take that first step to discovery.

Her blank stare clearly expressed her disinterest, reinforcing her comment a few minutes earlier, but I couldn't, for the life of me, overwhelm my desire to satisfy my curiosity.

"It'll be fine," I said as I peeled her fingers off my arm, and began to walk to the front porch. I readied myself for anything that might decide I'm a threat, putting a hand over the pistol at my side, and mentally tracing my hand to the M16 waiting on my back. _Seven rounds left, plus five in my pistol. _

Although, I wouldn't use those unless I had no other choice. I hoped a confrontation wouldn't escalate to that.

The life that surrounded the property retracted as moved through the open gate. Silence formed around me, and every movement I made screamed at me to go back to where I came, but I pressed on. I filled my lungs with shallow breaths, my nostrils wide to allow the air to enter easily with little interference. I was quiet, stealthy.

"Stop where you are!" A male called from inside the house. It was hostile – an intent to injure, or possibly kill.

I was dead in my tracks.

I passed over every open window, but saw no one. I was offense-less. If I couldn't see anyone, and things turned ugly, then I couldn't shoot, but they sure as hell saw me. I was at a disadvantage. Maybe we should've turned back. We should've continued on; passed by this place, ignored it completely. I should've listened to Alice, but it was too late.

"I mean no harm," I called out to whoever it was that was ordering me. "My friend and I were walking through the woods and stumbled upon someone who may be living with you – a young woman? We have her pail."

Silence. No answer.

I remembered the stain on her dress. If she was hurt, and she lived there, then they'd want to receive medical attention. "My companion has medical training if you have anyone that needs to be looked at."

"You military?" he asked with a sudden outburst.

It took me by surprise – the question. Somehow, I didn't think I'd ever be asked that. I was so used to having my BDU on, and when it was on there was never a doubt. "No," I called back.

"You look like one. We don't like filthy government heathens around here."

"It's from a dead soldier. We needed supplies and we found these," I lied with a straight-face, still eying the windows. There was movement on the bottom-right. I concentrated on it, but it shuffled away to the left.

The front door opened, and my hand slipped around the base of the pistol, but I didn't pull it from it's place. An man with a thick mustache and graying, dark hair strode out wielding a bow with an arrow ready to fly into my chest. He was dirt-ridden from his dark plaid shirt to his boots.

"You here to try and steal my property?" he asked.

"No, we're just passing through. We only wanted to return the pail, and offer our assistance if we can be of any."

Well, Alice's assistance, at least.

His stare jumped and situated behind me. He looked down the road, biting his lower lip then nodded. "Okay. Take off your guns. I don't like that kinda stuff being brought into my house." I began to unhook the rucksack. He lowered his bow, collected the arrow in his hand then allowed everything to linger by his side. "Y'all are more than welcome to come in and rest a bit. We have some clean water, and a little food we could offer you."

I rid myself of my weapons, keeping the trigger as far away from my index finger as possible to show that I meant no ill-will. When I was cleaned of my metal and ammo, I turned to motion for Alice, whose distance told me she was still unsure of this decision. But she came and stood by my side, touching my arm lightly with her fingers as I placed my guns and ammunition on the porch, right outside the front door.

"You can put your bags in here." The man directed to right inside the door of his home, and that's where we placed them.

Once inside, the overwhelming smell of meat instantly ported me home, to a quaint apartment nestled in the noisy Chicago suburbs. It was Sunday, and my mom always made the best beef roast surrounded by potatoes, carrots and onions.

I never thought I would smell it again, but whatever was being cooked lifted those images straight from the back of my mind, and if I closed my eyes I was home once more. "Smells delicious," I remarked softly as the man closed the door behind us. A closer view of him revealed a slender, but healthy-looking older man. He had slight wrinkles under his eyes and around his mouth, but he was surprisingly well-groomed despite his facial hair and five o'clock shadow.

I must've looked like a barbarian to him, and comparing his living conditions to mine, I was.

"Thank you." He placed his weapon by the door. "My sons just brought home a bear this morning. About this time of year the meat's right for just about anything, I reckon. "

Alice, whose thoughts correlated with my own, nearly burst. "Bear meat?"

He smiled. "Oh, yeah. Ever had it?"

She shook her head. "Can't say I have."

He chuckled – amused – and motioned for us to follow him. We did. "City folk, huh?"

"_Were_," I said. "Not anymore."

"We don't see much of your kind around here. Travelers are rarer and rarer these days. I suppose everybody has either gotten to where they're going or they're dying before they can reach it this far south. That's where you're going isn't it; way down south?"

"Yes, northern Florida."

As we walked down the hall, littered with hanging portraits sealed with dust, I wondered how many people were doing the exact same thing we were.

Somewhere in the world, did a stranger welcome dirty travelers into his home and offer his food and water? The idea was unheard of. It was strange to be inside a home knowing how alienated people were from each other. I could feel the tension in the air as the three of us – him, Alice and I – rounded the corner of the hallway and were thrust into the late afternoon sunlight, into the kitchen. In front of us was an island that contained a multitude of fresh vegetables! Corn, okra, tomatoes and onions!

This guy didn't have a little food, he had Eden! I reached out and gently touched a tomato that sat on the island in front of us. It was real; smooth and cool to the touch. I felt as though my stomach would begin chewing on my back bone in that moment, surrounded by all that food.

We immersed ourselves in this room. In one corner, next to a long counter, with a large basin settled into it, was a gigantic, brick fireplace with a huge cast iron pot hanging over the burning logs. It seemed ancient. To our left, in front of a strange stove, stood a woman that the man approached, reigning her slender waist in his free hand and pulling her easily into his side to kiss the top of her head. Her brown hair was pulled up high on her head, tied down into a knot. Her body was familiar.

She turned and smiled at him. Her profile, the curve of her nose and her dainty chin, I'd seen before in the woods! It was her! The very same girl who had run away was standing before me in this wonderful kitchen. Her clothes had changed. Instead of the white dress, she had on jeans that hugged every curve of her ass, and a gray t-shirt that I couldn't have really cared about.

She turned fully, then, catching Alice's face – whom I just realized was holding firmly to my arm, but when the girl saw me her eyes widened and her lips parted the same way they had before she ran.

I shook my head, keeping my expression gentle and eyes soft in hopes to convince this girl I had no intention of harming her. She looked to the older man again.

He extended his hand. "I'm Charlie Swan, by the way." I took it, and was met with a firm handshake that surprised me.

"Charlie," I repeated, locking the name in my mind. "I'm Edward Cullen, and this is Alice Brandon."

We stepped back away from each other, and he stuck a set of fingers into his jeans pocket and wrapped the other arm around the woman.

"This is my daughter, Bella."

I felt a grin form as I spoke her name. "Bella."

I ducked my head in acknowledgment, but didn't reach out for her. I was afraid she'd shy away like a deer, or something. Instead, I took one step and placed her pail between us. In return, I received no response – no mutual understanding that we had just been introduced. She only continued to search my face, blankly with those eyes that had expressed terror when she ran from me. She allowed her jaw to drop only slightly. A very small space between her lips formed as though she were about to speak, but she didn't.

There wasn't a smile or a simple word. There was nothing. And suddenly, I felt a little smaller than I did when I walked through that door. My jaw ticked.

Bella Swan, I concluded, didn't trust me.

But, maybe she had good reason not to.


	7. Chapter 7: Wars Don't End Everything

Sorry for my absence. I'll be updating twice this week.

* * *

><p><strong>. . . | . . .<strong>

**C H A P T E R - S E V E N**

_Wars Don't End Everything_**  
><strong>

**~. . . . -=|=- . . . .~**

Charlie didn't physically appear to be the type of man who was capable of murder. His build was too slight, but I couldn't shake the image of him stepping onto the porch, ready to kill me if I moved another inch onto his property. Even when he looked to the pail I sat on the floor, to me and then back to his daughter, I told myself: _Be careful. This is a dangerous man, a dangerous father_.

I saw it for the briefest of seconds – a scowl touched his brow before it straightened, and fear that gripped his eyes before he grinned, amused. "You know, the way she acted when she came back, I thought she was attacked by large brutes."

Attacked? No. I shook my head like a desperate man pleading 'not-guilty' to a crime he didn't commit. "I didn't attack her, sir. I saw her wandering alone and was worried..."

"Ah! No harm done. Right, Bella?" He looked to her as he wrapped his arm around her back and pulled her shoulder so she nestled against his side. I waited for her to say something, anything. She hadn't spoken a word since the first moment I laid my eyes on her (although, she had good reason in the forest).

But she didn't speak. Instead, she shook her head then turned back to the stove and picked up a wooden spoon to stir the pot with large sweeps. Charlie turned his attention to me.

"It's fine. She can go back later and grab a pailful." He shifted toward the opposite side of the room. "We always keep a well-stocked supply of water, as you can see," he gestured to the black cauldron over the fire, "but every few days she'll add to the pot. Would you like some? I reckon y'all are thirsty."

"Yes," I answered for both Alice and myself.

He pulled down three clear cups from an open shelf that held numerous dishes of all sizes. There weren't many, but it appeared to be adequate enough for a small family.

"I'm impressed that you're able to live like this," I said as Charlie poured clear water from a glass pitcher that had been sitting idle in the shade on top of the counter. "You have everything."

He smiled appreciatively. "Not everything, but we do pretty well for ourselves."

"How?" I asked, pushing his response a little further. I wanted to know more.

"Wars don't end everything."

We took the water with gratitude. It wasn't a large glass, but simply the weight of it in my hands was enough for my throat to pronounce its dryness.

Even though common sense told me it would be okay to drink since he and his family had been drinking it, a small, trust-less person that always resided in the back of my mind told me otherwise. It was at my lips within a second to be inspected. It was clear, and completely odorless, and when Charlie raised a glass to his lips and drank without a second thought, that was all the convincing Alice and I required. It was probably rude of me to drink as fast as I did, but I wasn't able to conjure the will to stop. Charlie, however, didn't seem to mind.

He allowed a heavy breath to escape his lungs, a welcome relief given by the cool water, I assumed. "Life moved on," he continued. "We're able to grow crops, filter water. We make our own candles, so we always have light when the good Lord doesn't want to give it to us. Sometimes, someone will pass through looking for trouble, but we take care of 'em."

By pointing a bow and arrow at their face was my guess. And, even though I knew he was lanky, I also knew that looks could be deceiving, so I didn't put murder past him. A man had to look out for his family. A man had to defend what was his. He also had the help of his sons.

A ragged screech came from the opposite side of the room. The screen door, next to the stove, had opened and through it stepped an older woman. Her brown hair was pulled back under her wide-brimmed, straw hat, and she was pulling the dirty gloves from her slender hands while looking down at her feet. The white tank-top and shorts she wore were covered in dirt as well.

"What happened to those two roadies? Charlie take care of 'em?" I wasn't sure I liked her words and what they suggested. Her accent was thick, Southern, more-so than Charlie's.

He cleared his throat as she was beating the dirt from her legs, and when she raised her head it was clear who this woman was. She was Bella's mother. She had to be. Their characteristics were the same: their long, brown hair; the shape of their face and even their builds were similar. But, I saw Charlie in her eyes, dark and fearful.

"Oh," she said with a slight grin, but she appeared more surprised. "How'dja do?"

Charlie cleared his throat once more. "This is Edward and Alice."

The woman stepped lively into the kitchen with one hand extended, clutching her old, garden gloves in the other. "I'm Renee," she said and took Alice's hand first then mine with slight reluctance. Her shake was soft. So soft, in fact, that I could barely feel any pressure there at all. My immediate thought was she disliked my appearance, since everyone there, including Alice, was more well-groomed than I was. "It's so nice to meet you." She released, looking at me then back to Alice several times before asking, "Are y'all related?"

"No," Alice responded quickly. "We're of no relation."

"Just friends, travel companions," I added. Though, I was surprised she asked if we were family. I didn't think Alice and I looked anything alike.

"Well, y'all are more than welcome to make yourselves at home. It's nearly supper time and we'll be eating shortly. You must be starvin'." She put her palms to Alice's cheeks, as if to comfort and assess her. She frowned slightly and sighed, disagreeing with something to do about Alice. "Bless your hearts. Bella, would you please add a bit more water to the stew, and extra carrots and corn? Would you like to come with me and freshen up?" she asked Alice with a pleasant grin as she took hold of her hands.

"That would be great." She looked back at me, then. I had no idea what 'freshen up' consisted of exactly. It was one of those _woman things_ that I didn't care to know about, but it seemed to excite Alice, and Renee seemed harmless.

"I thought you might. You seem like the cleanly type," Renee said as they disappeared down the hall. Alice said something afterward with a chuckle, but I couldn't understand what it was.

Charlie's voice was a husky baritone against the surrounding walls of the kitchen. "Welp, I've got a few more things to do before we eat. About fifteen minutes?" He asked Bella as he walked by her. Once again, she only nodded. "Please show Edward where he can wash up," he finished before stepping through the screen door that Renee came through only moments before, but not before glancing at me. I was starting to think my uniform had nothing to do with the hatred I received from people. Maybe it was just me, an aura that I omitted, or something.

It was only her and me, then. I wanted to make conversation, to tell her I was sorry about earlier, but something told me it would be one-sided.

So, I stood there like an idiot with my hands in my pockets, my fingers grazing the chain where my tags were, while she ignored me and busied herself in front of the stove, which was quite unique now that I got a good look at it. I could see the embers of the wood burning ever-so faintly below the ceramic stars that held the large pot, the same embers that delicately lit her skin when she turned her head in my direction.

I tensed, and found myself caught in her gaze. I didn't know why, but something in that moment caused me to back slightly away. Maybe it wasn't the father I had to concern myself with. Maybe there was a reason why he allowed his slender daughter to trollop to a river by herself while monsters roamed around. I wanted to be out of that room, away from that awkward moment.

"Um, where can I clean myself off at?" I asked, making scrubbing motions with my hands, like she didn't know what I meant.

She motioned for me to follow her, and I did; out the screen door to the back yard that seemed to fade into a fenced-in heaven. There were horses, cows and sheep that were allowed to roam together in an L-shaped enclosure the the north. Chickens kicked dirt around the red barn with a white tin roof to our left, where I also saw the boots of Charlie as he disappeared into the shaded core. There was a dark, wood building next to it, much smaller than its neighbor. I couldn't distinguish its purpose by looks alone, but it had seen better days.

The garden in the middle of the property was the highlight. It was rich in green patterns, woven between the brown. There was corn, enough of it to feed a small army. So many different shapes of plants that were alive in the late afternoon sunlight. The horses neighed, the chickens made their funny noises, and I felt myself smile. A sort-of hope fell over me in that moment.

Life was possible this way. They moved on. How many other people in the world had done the same?

A loud bang with a slight ringing echo came from my right. It was Bella. She was standing next to a large metal tin nestled on the side of the house. "I'm sorry. I was admiring the view. It's beautiful," I said as I began to walk again. On approach I realized the thing she stood next to held gallons upon gallons of water.

She began motioning to the water, dipping her hands in and sprinkling it on her arms then rubbing it in, as if to demonstrate what I was supposed to do. Did she think I had forgotten how to wash myself?

She cupped her hands and brought the water to her mouth, as if to drink it, but she slung it back into the tin and ticked her finger back and forth: _no_. It was sort-of amusing, but I didn't show what I thought of it. She passed behind me, but kept an arm-length distance between us.

"Got it. Bathe, but don't drink. It's okay if I wash my face, though?"

She turned back and nodded, her expression straight, before continuing her stride. _Why the silent treatment, Bella Swan?_

I bit my lower lip and grinned. "So, I see the sink, but where's the toilet?"

She turned back and stared, emotionless, amusement-less. I had hoped for a smirk, but my joke wasn't perceived very well, apparently.

"'Cause, you know, it's outside... and... obviously this isn't a sink."

The grin faded when the screen door screeched then slammed shut on its springs. I sighed and muttered, "Whatever." I just wanted to break the ice, get rid of the tension. I wanted her to know that regardless of what happened in the woods, I wasn't going to harm her. I mean, _I thought_ I was a pretty nice guy. Who wasn't slightly grumpy at times? More-so, what person wasn't grumpy when they're hungry?

I peeled the sticky shirt off my back, allowing it to fall off my wrist into the grass. I leaned onto the rim of the metal tin, catching my reflection in the rippling water caused from my disturbance on the edge. Damn, I looked rough. Alice was right. There was a certain mountain man quality.

I cupped my hands into the cool water and splashed it on my face, neck and shoulders then down my arms and chest. It felt wonderful. I paid close attention to the beard, mostly; combing through it and removing any clumps of dirt that had gotten stuck there since I last cleaned up. I was sure I appeared disgusting to those people. The least I could do was attempt to be almost presentable while at their table.

Black water rolled down my extremities, tainted by the grime that had stuck to me for the past few weeks. I could see my true skin color again. I was more pasty than I remembered.

I washed and re-washed, checking my disfigured image in the water a few times before I was satisfied I removed all the dirt. I picked up my shirt and slipped it back over my head.

It smelled bad, like sweat, B.O., mud and blood.

What more could I do? Apologize profusely? I would have to. I sighed. I needed more clothes. Alice had been ripping our spare t-shirts for wound cleaning, and whatever else she needed them for. At the time, I was for whatever Alice wanted, but standing outside that house, not wanting to go in because I was afraid of the stench I carried around with me, I kind of hated it.

What sounded like odd, distant thunder caught my attention just as I gained the courage to enter the kitchen once more. Past the garden and through the large trees that stood tall in the middle of the pastures, I saw two horsemen quickly approaching.

Their horses hugged the fence as they rode, and I could see, then, just as they passed the large oak that gave shade to the majority of the field, that one was carting something behind him, a slat of some sort carrying something rather large. Who were these cowboy-hatted men? For a moment, adrenaline flooded my veins with anticipation. I thought maybe they had intentions to take over Charlie's farm, but when they rode to the wooden building that stood beside the barn and Charlie emerged from the interior to greet them with his hand raised and a shout of excitement I knew who those men were: his sons.


	8. Chapter 8: Bastard Sons of a Swan

Have a heart that never hardens, a temper that never tires, a touch that never hurts.  
><strong>- <strong>_Charles Dickens_

**. . . | . . .**

**C H A P T E R - E I G H T  
><strong>

_Bastard Sons of a Swan_**  
><strong>

**~. . . . -=|=- . . . .~**

To say that I was disinterested in being introduced to anyone else while I smelled and felt repulsive was an understatement. Meeting Charlie's sons was going to happen, but at least I had control over whether or not I would meet them right then. I wasn't compelled to run over and extend my hand with excitement.

My self-doubt was low enough for the moment. Charlie wanted to shoot me, Bella hated me and Renee gave me the stink eye. I was good without some mountainous, macho-man cowboys cringing at my face because I was dirtier than they were.

Before I was noticed standing outside the house, I stepped back into the hot kitchen where Bella stood with her back to me at the kitchen table. She turned her head slightly, her eyes catching mine then went back to her business.

I was exhausted from attempting conversation and trying to develop a sense of ease with her. Just looking at her exhausted me, so I went in search of Alice, the one person in the world that wouldn't judge. But, as I walked down the hall to the front of the house, I came upon a small room that caught my attention.

It was fairly small. A floral-patterned couch set in the center of the room, facing the fireplace that was set with thick-framed pictures. Around it were two, dark-green chairs.

I found myself at that fireplace, dragging my fingertips across the dusty glass to get a better idea of what was underneath. I was met with a small, happy child in the first picture, standing behind what seemed to be a birthday cake. Her eyes were vivid with laughter as a smile took over half her face. I could almost hear a child's laugh, then. Light-brown hair surrounded her. That was Bella. It had to be, and when I declared it to be her I felt my cheeks lift.

However, it was sickly because she was no longer that happy child. Her smile had faded with the years, her laughter and eyes numbed with the cold, bitter reality.

"How could Alice want a child in this world?" I whispered to myself as I stared at the picture, shaking my head. It didn't seem right to bring life into death. There were never any guarantees in the old world, but the word, 'guarantee', didn't even exist now. Children needed guarantees. But, everything was a cruel joke, and I wanted no part in it.

All the other pictures were different from the child. Most were Renee and Charlie when they were younger, close up shots of their faces and one of them on their wedding day, which was a back-yard affair it appeared; not one of those crazy expensive weddings that girls went on and on and on about. Nope. A younger, mustache-less Charlie wore jeans in that shot, and Renee a short, white dress. It was simple, but they appeared happy.

"Those are so old."

I removed my fingers quickly at the sound of her voice. "I'm sorry," I said as I turned, tucking my hands in my pockets. I didn't want to intrude on their family memories, at least I didn't want to get caught doing it. Truth was, I was curious.

Renee stood in the arch-way with a slight grin, her brow raised and her arms crossed in front of her, but she wasn't angry. She had changed from her dirty clothes into a short, brown dress. I had to admit, she was attractive for an older woman.

"That was Bella's fourth birthday." She swiped the remaining dust from the photo with her thumb. "I still remember bakin' that cake for her. She picked it out from a cake book that I had, and when she saw it her face lit up." She sighed. I'm sure those memories were settling in her mind. "She was a beautiful baby."

"She's a beautiful woman," I remarked without a second thought. No sooner had the words left my mouth, I regretted saying it aloud.

Her eyes caught the mistake that I'm sure ruptured on my features.

"Yes, well... those were the good ole days."

There was a commotion in the kitchen; foot-steps and excited male voices, although I couldn't hear what they were talking about. Heavy steps permeated the hall then a large man appeared with a black Stetson on his head. He was tall without the hat, but with it, he filled the entire archway. Dark curls hung next to his ears, and his eyes were incredibly blue. The light beard indicated he hadn't shaved in some time, but I still had him beat in that department. However, he was thick and muscular, the type of build I didn't want to go up against in a fight.

"Who's this?" he asked, pointing a meaty finger at me.

Renee touched my shoulder, faintly. "This is Edward." She turned to me with a smile. "Edward, this is Emmett."

Emmett stepped into the den with his hand extended. His grip was calloused and tight, and his voice was ninety-miles a minute. "How ya doin', man? Nice beard you got goin' on. Got a little Amish in ya? Trying to grow one, myself." He pulled at the very short hairs on his chin. It wasn't even enough to grab onto.

"I see," I said, stealing my hand back from his massive paw.

"Edward was returnin' a pail to us. We've invited him and his friend, Alice, to stay for supper," Renee said.

"Returning a pail?"

"Yes. Bella dropped one earlier when she saw Edward in the woods."

He nodded. "That sounds like something Bella would do. Yup! Clumsy ole Bella." He swung his arms, his hands clapping when they met in front of his torso. "I'm gonna go get washed up." Emmett turned and left the room. As he was running up the squeaky stairs in front of us, he called, "We got a good one, momma!"

A good one? What was he talking about? Did it have something to do with the object they were pulling behind the horses?

"Where's Alice?" I asked, staring at the flight of steps Emmett just bolted up two at a time.

"She's taken care of. I gave her a basin of water, some soap and a cloth. She said she'd be down shortly."

Alice got soap and a cloth while I washed from a dirty tin outside? Somehow, that didn't seem fair, but I was happy she got the soap she said she wanted some time back.

Having nothing else to do except pry into their family things, I followed Renee back to the kitchen. Another unfamiliar man in a white hat, his back turned to me, was there, hovering over the freshly-filled water pitcher, drinking a glassful. He was skinnier than Emmett, and much shorter, maybe even a few inches slighter than me.

"I heard y'all caught a big one," Renee said stepping behind him, rubbing his back with quick, hard sweeps of her palm. Sweat had soaked through his filthy, white t-shirt, causing it to stick to his skin when she touched.

"We saw him earlier up there by that small ridge when we got the bear this mornin', and I told Emmett he'd probably still be there. He sure was. He's a nice one, too. I'm glad we went back after 'em. We'll get good meat off that buck for a few days." His accent was as thick as Renee's, and he slung his words around carelessly and unforgiving.

I lingered just in the doorway, hoping not to appear as though I was intruding too much, but when this man turned and caught me in his inquisitive eyes I knew I had crossed a line somewhere. He didn't look at me like I was some dirty traveler. I'd seen his look before. I'd seen the way a man would size me up with one glance, when their eyes would carefully wander over my body in search for anything I might harm them with.

They saw a threat. A force to be reckoned with.

I wanted to reach to my neck and grab my tags to conceal them, thinking I'd forgotten to take them off, but remembered they were safely stowed away in my pocket. What was he searching for? What clue on my body could betray me? I'd left no visible signs of my military occupancy on me, yet it was like he _knew_.

"Who's this?" he asked, barely moving his lips. His tone was more reserved as he stared coldly. Blond hair nearly disappeared against his clean, tan cheeks, and there was barely a hair on his face. He reminded me of a Lieutenant I knew so long ago during my first year in the Army, but it wasn't the same guy, of course. However, the demeanor was the same: intense, serious.

"Jasper, Edward. Edward, Jasper," Renee introduced. "He and Bella ran into each other this mornin' and she dropped her pail. He was returnin' it to her."

He cocked an eyebrow under the brim of his hat. "Interestin'. It's strange to see someone travelin' alone. You must have real good instincts to survive this long."

"You could say that. Instincts and a little luck. Fortunately, I haven't been alone."

He seemed to take more interest, then. "No?"

"His friend, Alice, is upstairs freshenin' up in one of the spare bedrooms. Speaking of which, I betta' go check and see how she's comin' along. Bella will you please use the good plates since we have company?"

She looked to her mother, lazily, but didn't respond. Maybe she didn't need to. Renee exited the kitchen silently, her bare feet making no noise at all as she drifted down the hall and up the creaky stairs that could be heard from where I stood.

I watched Bella as she shuffled next to Jasper to pull down several plates that clanked together when she gathered them in her hands. Something foreign invaded the sight, followed by a sickening twist that dived into my gut.

Jasper's palm slid across the small of her back, pulling up the gray shirt to expose her skin. He squeezed the bare flesh of her waist opposite to him while bringing her lower body closer to his dark jeans. First, I thought perhaps he was comforting her, and I only saw it as inappropriate, but when he pressed his nose to her ear, his hat pushing upward on his forehead from their closeness, I knew it wasn't comfort he was trying to give.

He whispered very faintly into her ear then kissed her lobe, grinding his hip into her side. It was primal, animal-like, the way he touched her, as if to claim, and when he caught me staring I knew that was the purpose. Jasper was staking a flag into her, saying that he was there first, only she didn't reciprocate those feelings. It didn't escape me the way she shied away from him when his lips pressed to her ear, or the way she became stiff when he pulled her into his anxious hips.

This affection was unwanted and it made me uncomfortable to watch it, but I did with sick curiosity to their relationship. Was he her real brother? They looked nothing alike. No similarities were visible with the exception of their frames, both slender. Even Emmett didn't fit into the Swan family portrait. He had dark hair, a common trait, but there was nothing else about him suggesting he belonged in Bella's family.

I held no doubt that Jasper had violated her in some way. It didn't sit well in my chest. Quite frankly, it angered me and I couldn't do anything to this man because I knew nothing about him or her, or them, for that matter.

My violence would've possibly been without reason, and I was severely outnumbered, especially with Sasquatch living in their house.

But it didn't mean I felt any less for her. That didn't mean I wouldn't try to help her in some way while I was here for my remaining time. I pitied her; that poor, helpless girl who didn't appear to have the ability to speak for herself. She was in some way, very similar to Alice and myself. The world took advantage of our weaknesses.

The tension in the air seemed to evaporate when he moved away from her and toward me. "I'm gonna go clean up. Would you like me to show you where you can wash?" he asked, sticking his chin up and tapping the brim of his hat with his index finger to reveal his dark-blue eyes. Patches of red and dark-brown splotched underneath, details only divulged when he was close.

"Bella was kind enough to show me a little while ago," I said, straightening my back.

He smirked, took in my appearance once more then scoffed before taking his leave down the hall and up the stairs.

I didn't like him.

I didn't like him _at all_.

**. . . | . . .**

It was odd to see plates, spoons, and glasses of water lining the edge of the table, surrounding the large pot of stew, a basket of biscuits and the many white-yellow, glowing candles in the center. That wasn't real to me. It was merely a dream; someone else's reality. Mine was out the front door and on the road leading away from there.

I didn't belong at that table, neither did Alice, but we stayed. Alice stayed for food and soap, while I stayed for food and curiosity.

"Edward, you can sit there." Renee motioned kindly to a seat across from her. "Alice, you can sit beside him if you'd like."

We sat where it was suggested we sit. Emmett was next to her, then Jasper, Renee, Charlie and Bella was on my left with her wary body language always present.

"Shall we say grace?" Charlie asked as he folded his fingers next to his chest.

I wasn't sure how long it had been since I had participated in blessing around the dinner table. I was sure it had been far too long; before I even joined the Army. My mother was adamant about it, which was odd to me because she never went to church. Looking back, I think she did it for my father, who'd been deeply religious until after medical school, so I was told. My grandfather was a priest, pastor or reverend, I'm not really clear on the titles, so blessing the food was a necessity, not an option. Especially when he was around.

I bowed my head and closed my hands together like I used to when I was younger. It became silent then Charlie's voice broke through. "Dear Lord, we want to thank you for this wonderful meal and for the opportunity to live in this beautiful world that you ha..."

"Even though it's gone to shit," Emmett chimed in with a low tone.

"Emmett!" Renee scolded, as if he were a child.

Charlie cleared his throat. "We also want to give thanks to Edward and Alice, who have joined us from the harsh road. We hope you will have mercy on them, just as you have had on us. Amen."

"Amen." It was unanimous.

Just as Jasper reached for the large silver handle that stuck out from the red pot, Renee corrected him by pushing his hand away then said, "Guests first. Bella, spoon some stew into their bowls."

She did, but only filled the deep dishes half-way.

Charlie peered at what she'd given us. "Give them more than that, Bells."

She picked up our bowls once more and filled it to the top with reluctance and a slight scowl on her face that was directed to her parents. I poked through the stew and sorted the ingredients to determine what it was that I was eating, but it looked normal; carrots, potatoes, tomatoes, zucchini, onions and meat.

We were passed biscuits, as well. I took a bite of the crumbly bread and sighed... I may have moaned._ Did I moan?_ One taste made my stomach ache with anxiety, and all I wanted to do was eat until I felt I was going to burst.

"You poor thing," Renee remarked as she spooned some stew into her own bowl. "When was the last time y'all ate?"

"We had some little fish the past few days," Alice answered, shielding her mouth with her hand as she chewed.

Charlie shook his head. "I don't know how anyone survives out there like that."

I swallowed a piece of fatty, gamey-tasting meat. It was different, but so good! "It's not without difficulty."

"I can imagine," he returned. "We've seen people pass through here nearly skin and bone, starving and exhausted from trying to get by."

"It broke our hearts," Renee added. "We do what we can to help those that are less fortunate than us. We've taken people in and've tried to provide a decent meal for a few days, you know... help get them back on their feet. This house used to be a bed and breakfast, so we have the space, so why not?"

"That's very nice of you," I said.

"I am curious as to how y'all met." Renee said.

"Well, I was a pediatric nurse in Los Angeles, and I lived there for a while after D.D.. I traveled south to San Diego because L.A. became too harsh. And right on the edge of the city is where I came across Edward." She took a breath and her expression faded as she looked down into her nearly-empty bowl. I knew that blankness that overcame her. She was remembering the day she found me barely breathing and close to death from starvation. The images came too quickly for me; the explosions and toppling buildings created by the hands of citizens trying to kill whatever gas-stealing 'Government Dogs' they could. There was nothing except ash, blood and sun staring back at us when they were finished. "He was partly exposed, underneath rubble with," she stopped talking suddenly, holding back. I knew what was lingering on her tongue: _other soldiers_.

"Other people," I finished for her rather quickly. "A large group I was in were traveling down the freeway, and a building collapsed," I lied. "I don't know how long we were stuck there. I just remember calling out to see who was still there, and hearing nobody after several days had passed. I was the only survivor, amazingly I wasn't hurt. And if Alice hadn't found me then I wouldn't be here now. It was sheer luck to tell the truth. If she was on the other side of the street then she would've passed right by me."

Alice nodded to the table. "You were lucky," she said softly then looked to me. "Really lucky."

"And, we've been taking care of each other ever since." I spooned up more carrots and potatoes.

"Wow," Charlie said through chewing. "That's amazing."

"I'm just surprised that you're so healthy-lookin'," Renee said and eyed us. The way she did made me think she could see through the table.

"We try to keep food on us, mostly canned goods and things like that," I said. "I'm not gonna lie, it's getting harder the the further we walk, but we manage somehow."

"Edward also hunts," Alice added, her voice seeming to smile, as though she were proud.

"Hunting man, huh? What do you hunt?" Emmett asked.

"Mostly small game like rabbits. We came across a deer not too long ago, but it was difficult to haul and keep fresh, so I never did that again." I chuckled at the memory. "What about you?"

"Bear," he said. "And, of course deer plus anything else we can catch. Bella's really good at fishing."

In the corner of my eye I saw her shake her head.

"Don't be so modest," Jasper said. "You're an _excellent_ fisher."

"Alice is, too," I added, not forgetting how she'd been so resourceful at catching the minnows.

She smiled slightly. "You do what you have to do in order to get by, but it's good to see that some people still make time for this." She gestured her open palm to the table. "I'm sure it's rare these days for people to sit down to a great, home-cooked meal. It's nice to know it still exists."

Charlie shoved in a spoonful, nodded and said around his food, "We try to preserve family traditions. It's always been important."

"I agree," she responded then took the last bite from her bowl.

Renee noticed this, too. "You must have some more," she said with a grin as she ladled more into Alice's bowl then offered her another fluffy biscuit.

I knew the look on Alice's face. She wanted to stay here forever.

**. . . | . . .**

I felt as though I would burst.

While everyone else left the dining room, and their plates, Alice and I stayed in our seats, legs spread under the table as we leaned back in our chairs like pigs. It was one of those moments when I felt like unbuttoning my pants to make room for all the stew. Bella began to clear everything by herself. I stood, believing this to be an open opportunity to lend a bit of compassion and empathy before we left this house for good.

"I'll help you," I said, picking up a couple bowls, then followed her into the kitchen. "Where do you want these?"

She spun from placing the dishes on the counter, and her fingers brushed mine as I handed the load to her. I was surprised when she didn't shy away, considering she hadn't been wanting to be within a few feet of me since I'd been there.

The sun already began it's descent to the horizon. The orange light shone directly into the window, then. I wasn't aware it was so late in the day. Alice and I needed to leave, to find a place to stay for the night before darkness fell completely over us. A quick glance around determined she and I were alone. I had to ask the question that had been circling.

"Um, before I leave, I need to ask you something," I started, leaning against the counter, careful not to invade the space I knew she desired. Her eyes searched mine, almost impatiently, as if to ask _what?_ "I have no business prying, but I have to know that you'll be okay here. I'd hate to leave and not know." Not really a question.

Her mouth parted as she took in a deep breath then released it as her brow furrowed. There was something indistinguishable there, pulsing behind her eyes; an emotion she wouldn't allow me to see.

"Edward?" Alice was standing under the dining room arch-way. "We probably need to get going. It's getting late."

"I know. Just gimme one second."

She crossed her arms over her chest and propped herself against the wall. She was going to wait. I directed my attention back to Bella, ignoring Alice's prying ears. I didn't mind if she heard. I planned on telling her the whole story later, anyway.

"Will you?" I asked with urgency.

She was thoughtful for a moment before nodding, but I wasn't sure I believed her. Part of me wanted her to answer no, that she wouldn't. That part of me wanted her to say I was right about Jasper, to save her and take her away before anyone else could hurt her. She couldn't save herself, and maybe I was the only one that could. If she had said no, then I would have taken her with us. I would've protected her, the way I protected Alice. It was my duty to guard those that needed it most.

But she didn't. She said yes; she would be alright. There was nothing more I could do for her. I couldn't take her with me, and I couldn't linger there.

"Okay," I said gently. "I just had to be sure. I didn't want to walk out of here wondering if there was something I could've done to help you, which is the only reason why I followed you in the first place." I swallowed. "Well... thank you for everything, Bella." I backed away from her, leaving her to the dishes. "Let's go, Al."

I hated to eat and run, but there wasn't a choice. I followed Alice through the dining room then into the entrance. Across from us, Bella's family were seated in the den, talking quietly amongst themselves. Charlie was the first to pull away from the conversation, then Emmett flung the back of his hand to Jasper's knee, who turned, followed by Renee.

She stood as I pulled my sack into my hands, and Alice pulled her backpack on. "Going so soon?" she asked.

"The hours ran away from us. It's getting late, and we're gonna need to find shelter before dark, but we wanted to thank you for having us for dinner and for allowing us to clean up. It's been a long time since anyone offered their assistance to us. I can't begin to tell you how much we appreciate it," I said, pulling the straps onto my shoulders. The weight pushed down on my back which only added pressure to my thigh. The pain had subsided for a while, but the burden reminded me I wasn't completely free, yet.

"You don't have to go," Charlie said.

"No! Please, stay! It would be unkind of us to push you out the door right before dark," Renee added.

"We couldn't impose," Alice insisted. "It wouldn't be the first time we've traveled at night."

"But it won't be on my watch. We insist you stay the night with us. We have plenty of extra rooms. You can get up, eat some breakfast and if you want to leave then you can."

Renee's offer was enticing. Was there a downside? It was only one night, right? A bed sounded nice. To be truthful, it sounded like heaven ringing bells in my ears. The idea of breakfast was powerful. She could've offered breakfast and a spot on the hardwood floor and I would've been game. However, it did feel as though we were imposing, but the benefits outweighed the risk of us looking like moochers. I'd already sacrificed my uniform to look civilian for the good of us. If I had to appear to be an imposing citizen to get a little food, then I would do it. Alice looked to me and shrugged with a gentle tilt of her head.

She was for it if I was. I grinned. "Well, only if you insist."

"We absolutely insist," Charlie said. He picked up a lantern that sat idle on a table next to the couch. "I'll show you to your rooms." He began his ascent up the noisy stairs.

And, like trusting fools, we followed him into the dark space above.

* * *

><p><em>Theme No. 1<em> by Balmorhea


	9. Chapter 9: Flanking the Shadows

I apologize for the incredibly late update. It's always chapter nine that give me the most trouble with any story I work on.

Good news is: we're almost done with this fic. About four chapters to go.

_**. . . | . . .**_

**C H A P T E R – N I N E:**

_Flanking the Shadows  
><em>

******~. . . . -=|=- . . . .~******

"We used the third floor, mostly, for single travelers, but it's just storage, now. You'll have to excuse the dust."

We climbed the never-ending stairways, my thigh aching with each push. The air was stagnant and thick; the hall dark. It would've been lifeless if it weren't for the little slivers of light lining the floor under the curtains in front of us, or the doorways which surrounded the stairs, two on each side. Charlie's lantern revealed more of the floral-patterned wallpaper and railing as he immersed himself in the darkness. He came to rest in front of the second door on the right, searching for the correct key on the large ring he had pulled from his pocket.

My skin rose, and the hair on my arms stood on end as a chill passed through my bones. It felt different up here; colder, dizzying and strange. I glanced behind to Alice, curious if she felt it, too, but there were no telling clues on her face. She appeared tired, but I was alive from the charged air, my senses more alert than they had been in some time. My chest flattened and my muscles constricted as the breath stole from my lungs. And I felt something, then, as Charlie turned the lock over and pushed open the door.

Fear.

But like an exhaling breath, it left, and my body regained some of its warmth.

"Here's one room," Charlie said. Light filtered through the gauzy curtains, brightening up the once-night-fallen hall in a reddish-orange hue. It was the type of color that could only happen during sunset, or if a raging fire burned close. A dying need to look over my shoulder compelled me to turn around, convinced someone would be there, but there was nothing more than an empty hall. "It's not much," Charlie said, and I gave him my attention, "but at least there's a bed. The other room is on the other side." He gestured to the opposite side of the stairs.

"One room is fine," I said before he could start his steps.

Charlie placed one foot inside the door and peered in, like he'd never seen the inside of the room before. "Are you sure? The beds are small. It'd be kinda difficult to sleep with two people comfortably."

"No, it's okay, really. I can sleep on the floor. We don't want to be any more trouble than we already are." Truth being, I didn't feel comfortable sleeping in separate rooms, not when we had only just met these people.

He shrugged. "Suit yourself, but you're more than welcome to two rooms. It's no trouble at all." He cocked a one-sided grin. "Well, I'm gonna let y'all get settled. I'll have water brought up in a while, along with some light. Oh!" He turned before descending the stairs. "One thing, the bathroom is out back and to the right. Make sure to take a candle with you. No tellin' what you may step on back there."

We thanked him then entered the room and shut ourselves inside. He said it wasn't much, but there was more than enough. The very small bed, pushed against the wall next to the window, was welcoming. There was a nightstand next to it, and a chest of drawers stood near with a large, square mirror hanging over. A single door stood on the wall to our left. Alice inspected and found it to be a long, but shallow closet.

"I could get used to this," she said, allowing a bag strap to roll off her shoulder. She dropped one knee to the bed so she could push back the short curtain at its side, inspecting the view which overlooked the garden, barn and shed.

I set my sack next to the closet. "Don't get too used to it." I wanted to sit next to her on the bed, but I was filthy.

Her fingers fell from the material when she looked to me. "Why did you suggest we share a room?"

I shook my head as I lowered myself to the blue rug in the middle of the room. A hiss escaped when my ass hit the floor. "It'd be pointless to mess up two?"

"It's more than that." She sat on the edge of the bed, eying my thigh. "What's wrong?"

My fingers worked to unlace my boots, and the best relief came when they slipped free of my achy feet. "I just have a bad feeling about that Jasper guy," I said, my voice low.

"You feel that way about everybody."

"It's different this time," I said, scratching my head. "He was... grinding... into Bella."

Her face twisted. "Isn't that her brother?"

"I thought so, but after I saw that I hope not."

Her stare fell to the floor. Her eyes seemed to glaze then she said, "Is that why you asked her to come with us?"

"Yes."

"Is that the only reason?"

I exhaled. "I feel sorry for her, Alice."

"Because she's a girl?"

"Because she can't defend herself. My God, were you even watching today?"

She shushed me. "Keep it down, someone will hear."

"Sorry," I whispered. "I'm just," I buried my face in a palm, "tired, is all."

"Well, you're in luck, because we have a bed right here with your name on it."

"You take it. I'm good here."

"You're so stubborn," she growled. It was silent for a moment before she chimed, "We could always share it."

I only half smiled. "That wouldn't be the greatest idea you've ever had."

"Why not? It should be fine if we both sleep on our sides. I promise I don't move that much."

My eyes dropped to the rug and I huffed at the thought. "I know you don't." I slept next to her for the past few weeks, huddled underneath the blanket. She was a silent sleeper, but beds were for more than just sleeping. I scanned the fibers of the old rug, thinking about it serving as my "mattress". The floor was cold, and it smelled funny closer to the hardwood. It wouldn't be the best night sleep I ever had, but it wouldn't be the worst, either. "Toss me that quilt under you."

She did. It wasn't thick and it was pink, but it would be okay for the night. I pulled our blanket from Alice's bag so I could roll it up and use it as a pillow.

Knocking sounded through the room.

Alice opened the door to Renee on the other side, holding a tray with a small basin, a pitcher set inside. When she entered the room to set the tray on the chest of drawers, I noticed the wash cloths, candles, matches and what looked to be a small bar of soap. They had everything.

Renee echoed Charlie earlier, "You don't have to share rooms."

I insisted it was easier.

"Well," she said, "if you need anything else, don't hesitate to ask."

She returned to the dark hall, lantern-less, shutting the door behind her. I stood with a careful movement to avoid the pain I knew I would encounter, and caught my reflection when I turned to the tray.

My brow furrowed, the wrinkles creasing over my forehead more than I remembered. I frowned. I didn't know the man in the mirror. He was a stranger, an old, hairy stranger. I stepped forward for a closer inspection. There were dark circles under my eyes, and unfamiliar lines around my face. A hand wandered to my beard. I stroked it, not sure if I was trying to convince myself it wasn't really me. It sure as hell didn't look like me. I wasn't that old, was I? Had I aged so much?

"You look confused." Her face appeared in the mirror, over my shoulder. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing. I just don't look the same, is all. I'm like an old man."

She turned me around to face her, inspecting me. "You're under there somewhere." She pulled down on the hair at my chin with a smirk. "You could always whack a few years off if you wanted. But, before you start, I'd like to wash my face and rinse my mouth."

_**. . . | . . .**_

The fine edge of my knife slid along my cheek one final time before I scraped the soapy remains into a empty box I found in the closet. I brought water to my cheeks from the large bowl for a last rinse. I inspected.

Better. Cleaner. _I recognize you._ "What do you think?"

Alice lay across the bed, pushing the curtain back to look out into the night, but she turned. "Looks good, Red."

I rubbed my cheeks. They felt strange being so bare. "You're looking at me funny. Is it weird?"

"No, not at all." The curtain covered the window once more when she moved to the pillow. "Goodnight," she said. There was something passing through her mind, but for the moment, I wasn't going to concern myself with what she was thinking. I was too tired.

"Goodnight." I should've rested, then, but a charge pulsed behind my thoughts, resonating the fear I felt earlier and stirred it around in my chest. I lay on the rug, our blanket rolled under my head, the quilt covering me and tried to find relief from the day. My knife was tucked against my side, ready when I was if something stirred me in the night from sleep.

But, there was one problem: sleep was a thing that didn't like to be chased. I couldn't find it when I kept hearing noise after noise echo from the hall and into the room. The very floor under me creaked and moaned, as if the house were alive and moving. There were sounds outside the door that caused me to raise my head in concern when I started to get comfortable.

Footsteps and knocking were frequent, and with each sound the tension in my chest became tighter. Crickets chirped outside, but were constantly interrupted by screeches and scratches for the briefest of seconds. As the night pressed on, Alice's breathing became heavier and a voice began to filter into the mix the further I sank into the night; it came from under me, next to me, from the hall or at my ear. A jolt passed through me when I heard a _boom _from inside the house somewhere. It came again and again, repeatedly, as if something were hammering on the walls trying to escape.

It stopped as quickly as it began. I gripped onto the hilt of my Stalker, ready for anything to burst through our locked door, but whoever, or whatever, it was, was already in the room, pacing. A lingering shadow moved among the darkness. It had no distinct shape, and I couldn't track it directly. It was always there, flanking my periphery, but I could feel it watching me, and I knew, somehow, we were not alone in that room.

Warmth pressed against my shoulder, my cheek.

My eyes were compelled to open, although the night persisted there, too. A constant shadow.

Something was leaning over me, breathing in my face!

In one sharp move, I angled the knife's blade against my arm and forced myself onto the figure crouching over me. I was at the advantage now!

Shaky breaths hit my face. "Edward, it's Alice."

Alice. "What are you doing?" I exhaled, relaxing my knife. "I could've killed you."

"You woke me," she said.

"Woke you?"

"Yeah. You were making a lot of noise down here. Were you having a nightmare?"

"I... I don't know." Was I? The sensation of being watched felt real, and I could've swore I saw something roaming near my head. There was still a pull in my chest. My eyes weighed a hundred pounds, and my head was pounding. Perhaps I did have a nightmare, but it felt real. "I'm sorry I woke you."

"It's okay. You weren't the only reason. I've been off and on for a while. I keep hearing noises."

"That makes two of us," I said, somewhat terrified it wasn't happening to me alone.

I felt her slide from beneath me. I hadn't realized I was nearly sitting on top of her. "I'm gonna find the matches. What was it about?"

"The nightmare? I don't know. It seemed real. I was here," I pointed to the floor, "laying down, but something was moving around me. I heard voices, too."

The walls appeared when Alice struck a match to life. She found the candle and lit the wick. "The voices were real. Someone was talking below us. It sounded like that Jasper guy." She sat beside me, curling her legs underneath her. "You're sweating," she said as she pushed away the hair fastened to my forehead. I felt chilled, though; not hot or sticky. "Do you want me to go downstairs and get you some fresh water?"

"No, I'll be fine." I wiped away the moisture then lay down once more, tucking my knife next to me. "It was just weird."

My shirt was tugged, and something tickled my skin. Alice had wrapped a finger around the hem and began to twist. "I'm surprised you didn't wake up sooner, to be honest."

"Was there a lot of noise?"

"Yeah," she grimaced, "Jasper shouted once or twice, but it was so muffled I couldn't hear what he was saying. Not to mention I heard banging on the walls and footsteps."

"I already don't like him. He seems like a Class A asshole. Ah, stop!" The muscles in my stomach twitched when her fingers grazed the skin above my pants. I occupied her fingers in mine. I groaned, "That tickles."

"I thought you said you weren't ticklish?" She smiled, running her thumb over my knuckles.

"I can turn it on and off," I said, slipping my wrist under my head so I could see her better from my position.

"I bet you can." Her smile deepened, and a chuckle nearly escaped her lips.

I smiled in return, feeling oddly affected by her expression. "You're in a good mood tonight."

"It's a good night; I ate 'til I was full, I'm sleeping in a bed and I'm here with you. This moment is so perfect right now."

"The only thing we're missing is some tequila."

"I was never much of a tequila person. I was a Pink-Panty-Dropper kinda girl."

I laughed. "What the fuck is that?"

"A really good drink! I forgot how it's made, though."

"That's unfortunate. Every man in my unit should've had one of those in hand," I teased. She poked me in the ribs.

"Not you, though, right? Not _the_ Edward Cullen?"

Perhaps the old me didn't need to do much coercing in order to take home any woman I wanted, but if I were lined up next to twenty other men after the war, I would've probably been picked last. "Five years ago? No. Today? I'd need to double it."

Her flattened palm ran across my chest several times. "Aw," she babied, "you still have me. You don't have to buy me a drink in order for me to sleep with you."

"Comforting thought," I puffed with sarcasm. "I'll remember that." I'd meant it as a joke, but instead of grinning, she frowned. Shadows crept further over her face. "I was kidding, Al."

I lost her fingers from between mine. "No you weren't." She tried to get up from the floor, but I pulled her back, plopping her next to me again. "Stop. I'm done."

I let her go, knowing the room became heavier more suddenly than I could've ever imagined. "What do you mean you're done?" I asked as she crawled back on the comfortable-looking bed, underneath the sheets.

"Nothing," she replied as she turned her back to me to lay on her side.

Oh, God. The 'Nothing' reply. It made me want to scream! 'Nothing' _always_ meant _something_, and it _always_ had _something_ to do with me. I found myself sitting on the edge of the bed, leaning over her legs with one arm propping me up. "Tell me, 'cause you know you're going to anyway."

"If you're too oblivious to figure it out, then you don't need to know."

"This is what I can't stand about women. You keep everything to yourself when we do something wrong so we can't fix it. Then, you stay mad at us for days, calling us assholes and bastards when you're the only asshole who didn't have the decency to tell us what we can do correct whatever the hell it was we did wrong in the first place. So please tell me so we can both avoid calling each other a bitch and a bastard tomorrow morning when we wake up."

Silence passed for unmeasured moments. I wasn't sure how long I stared out the window, waiting for her to speak. I had said something wrong and my heart was racing. I'd always hated confrontation with friends. It made me uneasy, especially when it came to Al. There was never a terrible thought far behind these conversations. Part of me always expected her to leave me. She'd pack her shit and walk away, never wanting anything to do with me ever again. I was sure I would become my father if she left; an emotionless, empty drone. My mom didn't want me to become like him.

I think what she failed to realize is: when she gave up on him, he gave up on himself. I could still remember the day she pulled me out of my sixth grade math class. I still remembered the tears on her cheek while she stood next to the principal, waiting to tell me my father was dead and I would be missing school the following week. She wouldn't tell me how he died, though. I didn't learn that until I was much older, but the closed-coffin funeral told me enough. It was messy.

"Why won't you sleep with me?" she asked.

_What?_ I looked up, expecting to see her staring at me, but she wasn't. Her eyes were out the window. "What?" I asked.

She found my stare. Her lips were straight, sad. "Why won't you sleep with me?"

"The bed's too small, Al."

"No, not like that. I mean, why haven't you tried to... you know... have sex with me? You're all business, all the time. You're like some brainwashed machine that isn't affected by anything except whatever the Army taught you."

Ouch. "I'm not some machine, Alice. How could you say that?" Her words infuriated me, but the sadness on her face broke me. A tear rolled away from her eye and down her nose. Some men called it weakness, but I used the term _understanding_. It hurt to see a woman cry. I'd seen my mom cry enough during my lifetime. Nothing was worse than when Mom cried. Tears were my kryptonite, and it affected me.

She shook her head as much as she could, pressed against the pillow. "I don't know. I just... I put myself out there, hoping you'd make a move and you never did. It shouldn't have been hard, you know? I'm like, almost the last woman on Earth. We're together, and lately we've been sleeping right next to each other." She exhaled. It almost sounded like a chortle. "What's wrong with me? What's _so wrong_ with me? Am I hideous? Too skinny?"

I leaned over her legs more. "Don't ever think that. You know I think the world of you."

"If you think the world of me, then why won't you _be with me_?"

"I can't. It's not that simple."

"Why not?" Her eyes squeezed shut, causing another tear to pinch and roll.

I sighed. "Al, the last thing I'd ever want to do is make you feel like shit, and I realize, now, that I failed to do that. You're my best friend. Just, tell me what you want me to say, and I'll say it."

"I don't want that," she said softly.

"Then, tell me what I can do." I wanted that moment of tension to pass.

She sat up, then and said, "I want us to be together when we get to Florida. I want to build a life with you. I want to have your children. I want us to grow old together." She became more verbally upset as she went on."That's what I want, but you can't give it to me, can you? It's too complicated, isn't it?"

I couldn't process all the information at once. Actually, it scared me, causing me to back away from her a few inches. Sure, I loved her. I'd give my life for her, but it was hard to define my love because every sliver was gray, like the world. "Al, I wouldn't make a good husband-type. I don't even think I want kids. What kind of person would raise a child in these conditions?"

She flung herself downward to the pillow, staring at the ceiling. "See, something's wrong with me," she cried.

"Jesus Christ, Alice, nothing's wrong with you!" Stubborn woman! How could I convince her she was beautiful? I moved closer, leaning over her torso so I could look her in the eyes. "It's not you, it's me! You deserve more than what I can offer. I'm just a beat-up man that barely has any more fight. Can't you see that? You've gotten the best of whatever was left, and I gladly gave it to you, but you shouldn't want to be with someone like me. I'm not good."

Her teeth chattered, and her shoulders trembled when she reached for me again, fisting my shirt into her hands and pulling me closer. "You are good, and I do I want you. Please."

A chill passed through me, and my skin rose in response at her words. I swallowed the massive knot that had built in my throat. "I don't have much more to give."

"I'll take anything you can give me."

She was pulling me to her, clutching anywhere she could to achieve her goal to press her lips to mine. She wanted sex, but I didn't understand why. It became clear she had been entertaining the idea for a long time. Her actions suddenly made sense, but I couldn't give it to her. It was dangerous. So, I diverted from her path and, instead, placed my lips on her forehead; once, twice, a third time before pushing her crazed hair over her scalp, away from my cheeks. "Scoot over," I whispered at her ear.

I moved the candle from the chest of drawers to the nightstand, along with the matches. My Stalker was placed next to the candle holder before I blew the flame out. The dark persisted once more, but once my eyes adjusted, the moonlight contributed familiarity to our surroundings.

I managed to squeeze onto the bed, pressing my chest to her sheet-covered back and wrapping my arm around her waist. I found a comfortable curve in the pillow, then I pulled her tightly to me. She only obliged too enthusiastically. The contour of her against me, nearly pushed my resolve to not have sex with her. "Shh. Be still," I whispered. "Try to go to sleep."

Soon, her gentle sobs died, and her breathing returned to a steady pace.

My one, final mission was vowed to the woman who saved me when I couldn't save myself. I'd done everything I could to keep her safe. As the old saying goes: a life for a life. But, I hadn't thought to protect her from the one thing that could screw up everything.

Me.

* * *

><p><em>Mirror <em>by Helen Jane Long

(beautiful piano composition. check it out if you have the time. all her stuff is great.)


	10. Chapter 10: Kicking the Hornet's Nest

_**. . . | . . .**_

**C H A P T E R – T E N:**

_Kicking the Hornet's Nest  
><em>

******~. . . . -=|=- . . . .~******

I don't remember what caused me to wake so early the following morning, but once my eyes were opened there was no turning back.

Beyond the window, dark blue. It yielded very little light. I found my knife then slipped it into the sheath, covered Alice to her shoulder with the blanket, then left her in peace when I slipped into the shady hall and down the stairs with nothing but touch as my guide.

On the bottom level, a slight glow illuminated the wall in the foyer. I followed it to the kitchen, where I found Renee with her back to me, a litter of small glass jars on the counter in front of her. The fire stove was already burning, casting immense heat into the room, along with the fireplace.

She peered over her shoulder as I approached, and grinned. "Mornin'."

"Good morning," I greeted. I leaned against the archway.

"You're up early. Well, look at you. You clean up nicely. What made you shave?"

I stroked my jaw with my palm. The stubble pricked my skin. "I looked in the mirror," I said. The corner of my mouth tugged upward, and my eyes tried to adjust to the low light that barely filled the room. I stepped in a little more, approaching the island that separated us. "I didn't know I was_ that_ beastly. My apologies to you for seeing me like that."

"Trust me," she said, her back turned to me once more. "I know what it's like not feelin' or lookin' like yourself. It makes you uncomf'table, especially when you're around others. Like, maybe they ain't seein' the real you. Ya know?"

I pushed my fingers to my cheek. "Yeah, perhaps." I cleared my throat. "Do you always wake up this early?"

"Early? Oh, Honey, sometimes I wake up while it's still pitch black to start my day. I've got boys to feed and chores to do. I got myself a late start this mornin'. How did'ja sleep?" Renee turned and patted the kitchen table. "C'mon and sit down over here."

I pulled out the chair closest to her and sat. "I slept fine, thank you," I lied. I hadn't slept well at all. Between the noises, Alice and trying not to fall off the bed, I was miserable; more tired than I was before I fell asleep. "You said this was a bed and breakfast at one point?"

"Yup, some time back before we bought it."

I nodded. "Did anyone staying on the third floor ever complain of noises?"

"Noises? What type of noises?" Her tone changed, although not much.

"I don't know. Footsteps and banging?"

It took her a moment to answer. "Not that I recall. Why? Did you hear those things?"

"I thought I did, but maybe it was my imagination getting the best of me."

"It happens; imaginations getting away, I mean."

Her words ended the conversation on strange voices, footsteps and creaking walls. Still, I knew it was real. Alice even confirmed the noises when I woke. It was our shared reality, which we kept often. Our interpretations of the world meant having to share them. It was a military tactic we were taught early on when we lost a lot of sleep. I taught it to Alice, and it stuck.

"What are you doing?" I asked.

"Canning strawberries. Tomorrow, tomatoes. Keeps 'em around a little longer so we can enjoy 'em when winter comes. Would you like me to show you?"

I got up and stood by her, knowing I wouldn't understand a thing of it, and when she began to explain, it wasn't as hard as it sounded. It was a genius idea I was sure Alice would've loved to know about for when we finally settled, but there was a question of how she got the jars.

"Where do you get all this stuff?" I asked. "You have everything."

"What stuff? Oh, this?" She picked up a jar. "We got these before D.D.. Several cases, in fact. Years before it happened, Charlie told me that day would come eventually, and he wanted us to be prepared. He knew how people would act once gas started'ta dwindle."

"Charlie knew?" He seemed so simple-minded.

"Oh, yes. He watched the news every day and tracked the prices on the Market. He said it was only a matter of time and suggested we live this way in order to avoid falling victim to the failing economy. We were skint, and wouldn't be able to afford the rising prices. So, we bought a lil' extra of things we needed each time we went to the market over a period of six years. We kept inventory and categorized our cellar. So, when the gas ran out, we had things like matches, flour and sugar. Much more than that, to be honest. Anything you could ever ask for, we have except for the things we don't need."

I nodded. "That was very smart."

"I'm not sure how smart. Things don't last forever. Eventually, in a few years, we'll run out of all we've saved and we'll be with less, but at least we'll still have our farm. That's the important thing. Nothin' goes to waste, here. We utilize everything we receive from the Lord. What ever he sends our way is stock that we add to the pile. You learn to take nothin' for granted when there's nothin' left."

"If only we knew then what we know now. You and your family are very fortunate."

She smirked. "Honey, you don't have to tell me twice. I'm aware of our fortune, and I'm very thankful." She shuffled from the jars into a large pot of water sitting on top the bars over the bare flames. She began placing the jars into the water. "I'm tellin' ya, if it weren't for Emmett and Jasper, though, we'd been run all over already with thieves. Charlie can't get around like he used to, so when those boys came along I knew the Lord sent 'em to protect us."

When they came along? "I was under the assumption they were your sons."

"Well, they are," she said with a pause. "They most certainly are."

"By blood?"

"Blood has nothin' to do with family." She shook a finger at me. "I come from a big crowd, and so does Charlie, but before D.D., when the lines were still workin', they never called. They never sent cards or e-mails. Hell, the only time we saw them was maybe at Christmas and Thanksgivin', and we only talked to 'em to tell 'em to move their damn cars 'cause we had to go." She shoved her thumb to the space behind her, and her face lit with animation. I huffed with a grin. "They were never family. They were people we once knew, that we happened to be related to, but family?" She shook her head. "Family is who you make it, not who you get stuck with by lottery."

Truer words were never spoken. "So, they were drifters? Jasper and Emmett?"

"Yeah. Two Falls ago, we brought 'em in and helped 'em out like we're doing with you right now. They were such nice fellas, and always offering their help. Finally, Charlie asked them if they wanted to stay, and in exchange for food and a place to sleep, they'd help around the farm and keep the unwanted visitors away." She stuffed the final jar in the pot. The lid clanked when she lowered it over the glass and water.

"That makes more sense," I muttered.

"What does?"

I debated, very briefly, on whether or not I should tell her about Jasper and Bella last night, standing where she stood. "I just saw something that didn't add up yesterday after Charlie said they were 'his sons' and announced Bella as his daughter. But, when Jasper came in and stood next to her... it became... almost intimate."

"Well, they have every right to. Bella and Jasper are married."

I wasn't prepared for those words. It shocked me, pushed me back. "Married?"

"Oh, yeah. Cutest little ceremony this side of the Mississippi," she said with a smile, her eyes drooping as I'm sure the memory played in her head. "She wore my old weddin' dress, and they said their vows in front of the garden. We had sunflowers planted, then. I managed to make a strawberry cake, if you can believe that."

Said their vows? "So, they both _spoke_ their vows?"

"Generally, that's how people say _I do_."

"So, she wasn't always silent?"

Not two seconds after, her lips closed into a uniformed line. It took her a moment before she could pick up her movement once again, and even then, her words fumbled. "Well, she was always a quiet child. She never had any siblins to talk to. Oh! Look at me jabberin' on! I bet you're hungry. Do you want somethin' to eat? We have the best tastin' watermelon you've ever put in your mouth."

She smiled that pageant-smile, and I knew she hoped I'd forget about her daughter and the questions that turned in my head. But I wouldn't.

"Sure, I'll take some," I responded. Even though, I had ultimately achieved what I'd set out to do (get answers), it still wasn't enough. However, I was thankful she wasn't being abused by a blood relative, but the image of her shying away from him, her husband, was never-ending. The new information didn't change anything. He was still an asshole.

While I ate, Renee fooled with strawberries. The longer she washed, cut, mashed and stuffed into a pot on the stove, the lighter the sky became. I had nearly finished when she began to ladle the berry mush into the jars she pulled out from the water.

Squeaky stairs then heavy footsteps fell through the house, and Jasper and Emmett came around the corner, less their hats.

"You boys want some watermelon?" Renee asked as they headed toward the back door.

Jasper turned toward her and answered, "No." He saw me, then. Emmett pushed through. "Well, well. Look who's awake. I didn't take you for a watermelon-eatin'-type-a guy."

"You were right on the money, weren't you?" I took another bite. Juice escaped my lips.

"Would I be on the money if I assumed you was a butcherin' type-a guy?" He approached, the soles of his boots scratching the floor.

I refused to let go of his gaze. Challenge accepted, Asshole. He didn't know who he was dealing with. "Depends."

"Ever cut up a deer before?"

I'd only cut the deer Alice and I found, but other than that? No. "Professionally, or?"

He braced his weight on the back of a chair adjacent to me. "You city boys," he chortled. "I bet the closest thing you ever butchered was a cat when you's younger. Why don't you come on out to the pit and I'll show you how to butcher som'em proper."

Fucking hick. "Yeah, okay."

He made for the door once more. "You makin' more biscuits?" he asked Renee as he passed.

"I'll see, son." She was too busy with her canning to pay attention to him, it seemed.

I followed him out to the shed. The double doors were wide open against the frame of the building.

"Emmett," Jasper called on approach. His big frame emerged from the entrance. "Get a bucket'a water."

"Aight," he said, rubbing the back of his hand across his nose. Blood stained his fingers. "What's up, Eddie?"

"Hey." I jutted my chin as he passed. Despite Emmett's size, he was the more friendly of the two, or so it appeared. Still, he was guilty by association. He wasn't to be trusted if he kept Jasper's company.

As we entered the small building, the first thing I noticed was the unique odor. I knew it well. The sickly-sweet scent of death, followed by the sting of rot. It was common in the air of big cities, where population was higher. Even on the outskirts it hit me; a reminder on the wind as it blew across the wasted life.

The existence of a long body was the second thing to be noticed. A headless, skinless, marbled carcass hung by hooks from the back-leg tendons. It was an impressive-sized deer. I followed the chain into the rafters, as it hooked onto a pulley system. Above, more hooks hung from the ceiling. Heavy gardening tools hung from rusted nails on the three surrounding walls, and toward the front corner sat an old, red and rusted Chevrolet pick-up truck. The year escaped me. I wasn't that much of a car buff to remember hundred-year-old cars, but it was the type that became a family heirloom, passed down from father to son several times over.

Emmett was back a few minutes later, setting the water on a table pushed against the wall. The silver container neighbored a row of knives.

"I reckon most of the blood is drained by now," Jasper said, walking a good time around the upside-down body.

"It's still kinda cherry," Emmett suggested, poking the red meat on the hind-quarters.

"Fresh meat's better. Besides, I don't think City's ever had it ripe-off-the-bone."

City? Oh. He meant me. He was looking at me. I wanted to punch the smirk off his face.

Emmett handed me a slim, curved blade. "Ever use one of these before?"

A knife, hm? I wrapped my fingers around the thick handle. "I think I can handle it," I said.

"Let's hope so."

_**. . . | . . .**_

A drop of sweat rolled down my temple, even though it was fairly mild inside the shady barn. I resisted the urge to wipe anything away in order to keep the blood from my face. I was dirty, sticky, blood-ridden from shirt to boots with deer remains. I took an active role in carving the meat from the bone, doing whatever I was directed to do, using the tools I was told to use; a couple knives and a hand-saw.

It would've been considered male-bonding if I didn't have the urge to stab the shrimp next to me. Turned out, Jasper and Emmett had a run in with the military when they left their college in Waco, Texas. After news broke of the world running out of fuel, they fought their way to a city called Hillsboro, thinking they had a chance to find food there. Unfortunately for the people of Hillsboro (and Jasper and Emmett), Marines invaded and began taking advantage of those who were less fortunate. They had more firepower, and the new golden rule: Whoever has the most guns wins.

The further north they went, the worse the looting and murders became. Fort Worth, Arlington and Dallas burned within days, and was nothing more than smoke and ash when they passed. They spoke of military-grade armored cars rolling by while everyone else walked in the dirt. It became increasingly easy to see why we were hated so much. To them, we were the crooks and thieves depriving America of the one thing it needed to exist. When everyone did without, we thrived. It was the government's fault, and _"the army was their dirty dogs doing their bidding"_.

I guess we all had to have something to blame to make us feel better for our insanity. Truth was, we were sent in to protect people from themselves. We were meant to obtain the order when the police couldn't. Order became chaos.

Jasper's and Emmett's story reminded me how much we failed our mission as soldiers, as men of honor.

I picked up a chunk of fat which was separate from the remaining bones they planned to bury next to the garden. "Do you bury this too?"

"No," Jasper said, and took the slab of fat from me. He slapped it down in the pail. "Never discard the fat. We use it to make candles and soap. Momma uses it to make biscuits, too."

Soap? What the fuck?

Candles I understood, but soap out of animal fat? I felt greasier. I used a bar of soap last night.

"Oh, okay."

Renee was still canning strawberries when we came in, but she had a pan of browned biscuits waiting for Jasper. He picked one up, and nearly burned his fingers.

Good.

Standing in the kitchen, at the island - between the two heats, warmed me. The cool, clean water sliding down my throat quenched a thirst I'd been aware of for quite some time that morning.

"Y'all are filthy," Renee said, brushing off Emmett's shoulder as he took a seat at the table with his biscuit. "Y'all need to change before you do anything else today. You can't come in my house like that." She looked to me, then, and took in my appearance with a sweeping, yet thorough, glance. She disappeared into the hall, then up the steps.

She came back a few minutes later, carrying an armful of green plaid and brown. "These are Charlie's, but he won't mind if you wear 'em. Go in the laundry room and change. Leave your clothes and Bella will wash 'em for you."

"No, ma'am. I can't."

"Yes, you can, and you will." She shoved the clothes into my hands, the only part of me that was clean since I washed them before entering, then pointed in the direction of where I was to change. "It's right through there."

"We're not gonna be staying much longer. This isn't necessary." My attempt to give back the pile was skinned.

"You can't wear blood all over your clothes for the rest of your life. It won't take long to clean it," she insisted. "If you don't lemme it's gonna start stinkin'."

"I don't want to be an inconvenience."

As I tried to hand her back the pile one last time, Emmett called out, "Let her wash your damn clothes, City! For Christ's sake!"

I exhaled in defeat. It seemed a bit much, but it was pointless to argue with someone like her; the concerned, motherly type. Those were battles I generally steered clear from. I nodded, not having seen such kindness since, well, I couldn't remember when. "Thank you," I said.

Standing in front of the large washing tub, filled with murky water, I felt trapped inside time. I had finally walked far enough away from disaster and death to be carried away from it all, to be welcomed into a simpler life before anything monstrous had occurred; before people turned on their own kind, before murder, before the smoke and debris consumed everything. The Swan family got along fine without electricity. They weren't affected by it. Most importantly, they didn't turn into raging monsters like so many people had.

I was thankful to whatever existed above our heads to have the opportunity to see such people.

Just as I began to slip the boots and socks from my feet, a knock sounded. The door opened and Renee appeared, handing me a bowl of hot water and a rag. "Wash up good," she said after shutting me inside.

I huffed with a slight shake of my head. _Motherly indeed_.

Undressed completely, I soaked the cloth into the warm water and began to wipe the gunk away, having to re-soak many times in order to clean everything. When I finished, I changed into the clothes I was presented with, along with socks and underwear. Not going to lie, I was apprehensive about putting those on, but I did, however weird it may have been.

_I'm wearing another man's underwear: a_ thought I couldn't dwell on.

The socks, however, clung to my feet like a cloud from Heaven. I was a sucker for a fresh pair of socks, and I hadn't changed mine in some time, which was un-soldier-like conduct. Whatever magic there was, was lost when I slipped the boots on once more. It didn't matter how clean the socks were, they were always ruined with those uncomfortable boots. Perhaps it was time for a new pair, as Alice suggested during the Summer.

I left my clothes where she told me to leave them; on the floor next to other small piles.

I emerged fresh, almost a new man. I felt better having washed, and knowing I looked myself, the way I used to. I felt like me again... even though I was wearing another man's underwear.

_Don't dwell on it._

_**. . . | . . .**_

There must be something said for their ability to work, and keep their crops, animals and themselves alive. They took to their chores seriously and I followed Charlie's direction with precision and care. Even though I was convinced there was something strange going on in that place, I did what was asked of me, like an old Labrador. Emmett and Jasper were in good health, while I struggled a bit, forking dried grass into a wheelbarrow then pushing it to the barn for the animals time after time.

They took my help without rebuttal, and before I knew it, I had worked up a sweat splintering wood. There wasn't much talk while working, but I guess there wasn't much to talk about that hadn't been said before. They didn't ask me any questions, and I didn't divulge any information about myself or Alice.

I was already nervous that Jasper knew too much, even though I told him nothing about me. The way he kept looking at me was unnerving. I'm not even sure he realized he was doing it. But when Alice ventured out of the house (in fresh clothes, herself), carrying a glass of water in her hand, he _knew_ what he was looking at. I wanted to plunge the ax into his...

"How's it going?" she asked with a heavy breath and a fist on her hip. "Your leg doing okay?"

I'd barely seen Alice all morning since she worked inside with Renee, and I, out. I took a long drink of water. It filled my empty stomach and satisfied, yet intensified my craving for something cold and wet. I eyed Jasper over the rim of the glass, a warning look that was nearly concealed by the object in my hand. He continued to stare before returning to the ground he was tilling. "I'm alright. How are things in the house?"

She creased her lips as though she were holding in a grin. "I actually like this. Renee showed me how to can! And she's letting me help her cook dinner."

"She's letting you cook? Oh, no. The horror! Ouch, I'm kidding. I'm kidding. Don't be so violent," I jested, rubbing the pang from my bicep.

"You done with that?" She took the glass from me in a playful, violent way. I took the long, wooden handle up in both hands once again and began to set circular logs upright to quarter them. "Dinner's in a little while." She gave me one last smile and turned to go back into the house. As Alice walked in, Bella walked out with a brown basket, full of clothes, propped on her hip. She'd only recently stopped making trips to and from the lake with buckets, that time on horseback.

I watched her as she sat it down and began to hang the items up on the line one by one, including my old pants and shirt. I don't know why I watched her as long as I did, my hands propped on the end of the tool handle at my cheek, but I did with a sort-of fascination.

There weren't many questions left unanswered except her. What happened to this poor girl, or had she always been that way? I wanted to hear her story told in her voice. Silence was such a strange thing to me, so foreign. She clipped my shirt to the line, and then, as if she read my thoughts, her eyes drifted to mine. Our gaze locked for only a few seconds before she drifted elsewhere. Her chest rose with a deep inhale of breath.

I turned to my left, wondering what she could possibly be looking at.

Jasper's stare shifted between the both of us, dissecting our distant interaction. When I looked to Bella once more, her back was turned so she could finish her chore. Jasper appeared satisfied with her response, then dug his eyes back into mine.

_Yeah, yeah. She's your wife. I get it._

I carried on with my work, resisting the urge to throw the ax at him.

I was grateful when night began to fall and it cooled off even more.

We ate a hearty meal of vegetables, potatoes and the remaining fatty bear meat after Charlie's prayer. Bella remained silent through-out dinner, as usual, although I did catch her in my periphery stealing a glance or two.

I agreed to my own room that night, one next to Alice. I wasn't sure I would be able to handle another episode on the hardwood or the edge of the bed. I left a nice-sized pocket knife with her before seeking privacy. I even gave her a quick run-down on how to use it effectively if someone came in during the night, but if that happened, I told her, I was only a scream away, then I'd take care of them.

I had never worked so honestly, including the years I was enlisted. Even though my muscles ached, especially my thigh, and my bones were relieved to catch a break at the end of the day, I felt good. I worked to help provide, not only for Charlie's family, but for Alice and me, or any other good-intentioned travelers that happened across this place during the winter. I helped someone without using a gun or knife.

I lay on the bed, staring at the deviating star shapes in un-uniformed rows which covered the ceiling. What were they formed with? And why? Why not a smooth ceiling? I'd never seen anything like it.

Squeaky stairs alerted me. I reached for the knife on my nightstand, and stood, waiting by the door. I'm not sure what I expected, but I received a knock.

I cracked the door to peer out.

It was her. Her features were lit by the bright light on the tray she carried.

I shoved my knife in the sheath on my belt, and opened the door further. "Come in."

I moved out of the way for her to enter. She watched me carefully as she stepped by. It was only then I realized it was too late to take the tray from her, the more gentleman thing to do rather than stand idle and make her do all the work like some servant that was here for me. I irredeemably lost the first impression round that was so critical these days. She probably thought I was a huge jerk.

My shoulder brushed the door, but it was more forceful that I realized. It closed completely. I didn't miss the way her body tensed at the sound as she placed the tray on top of the small chest of drawers, or the way she avoided eye contact with me as she glanced in my direction.

"Thank you," I said as she turned toward me, toward the door.

She didn't smile or nod, or show general regard for my thanks. She _did_ think that I was a jerk.

She reached for the door knob, and I don't know why, but I stepped in front of it, blocking her exit. It was dumb of me to do. Her concern emerged then, but it wasn't my intention to frighten her. "I'm sorry," I said with a shake of my head. Her eyes remained wide, expectant. "I'm sorry for sneaking up on you in the woods. I thought you should know that. I never had any intention of hurting you."

She didn't say anything, so I continued in attempts to pry her voice from her throat. I needed to hear it, if only just a word! "It's just... Alice and I get worried when we see women traveling alone. It's rough out there, and after seeing all the blood on your dress, I had to find you to see that you were okay."

Her breaths were so quiet and still just like her expression, and I was left to wonder. I could only hope it was understanding that stared at me through her eyes, and when she moved to pass me I didn't continue to block her. I stepped to the side and, remembering a shred of old-world decency, opened the door, even though I didn't want her to leave.

"Have a good night, Bella."

She turned in the doorway, her eyes sparkling wildly from the flickering lantern she left behind. She was beautiful.

I watched the door close behind her, wishing she would come back in if only a little longer. I knew it was a false hope since I could hear her disappearing footsteps fade the further she walked from my door, the most noise I heard her make yet. I listened until there was nothing left except the lonely night buzzing out the window.

I moved the glowing lantern off the thick wooden tray and onto the small left-over space available on the chest. There was a black pile in addition to the water, basin and cloth; my clothes.

I picked them up, pleased at first then frowned. They were still slightly damp, which made me curious why she would take them down before they'd had time to dry. I brought the fabric to my nose, timid about how they would smell, but it surprised me when it didn't stink. In fact, it smelled quite good. Clean clothes had always been a favorite thing of mine, right up there with the clean socks.

But, wait...

My heart faltered. My lungs clenched. Heat flushed under my skin, and corroded my arms. My hands tremored as I lifted the newly-cleaned pants and jabbed a hand into every pocket, searching, hoping, for tiny balls of metal to brush my fingertips.

Empty.

All of them were fucking empty!

My eyes wide with realization, I exhaled as the material dissolved from my grasp.

"Oh, shit."

* * *

><p><em>Watching the Wind<em> - Fiona Joy Hawkins


	11. Chapter 11: Complexities of Fire

My apologies for the lateness of this chapter. I couldn't let it go because I was incredibly nervous about it, but **Alby Mangroves** came to my rescue! HUGE thanks to her for giving up her time to pre-read and beta this monster for your enjoyment. I've never worked with a beta-type person before, and she made this experience wonderful. (Any errors are on me since I added and took away after she was finished.)

Also, a big hug and kiss to my husband, Jase, an Army veteran. He is my savior when it comes to military facts, gun info, fighting, assholery, "male voices" and being a bad-ass.

* * *

><p>So where are the strong?<p>

And who are the trusted?

And where is the harmony?

Sweet harmony.

-_Peace, Love and Understanding,_ A Perfect Circle

_**. . . | . . .**_

**C H A P T E R - E L E V E N:**

_Complexities of Fire_

**~. . . . -=|=- . . . .~**

Days turned into nights, and before I knew it a week had passed without a sign of my tags. My efforts to try to convince Alice we needed to leave proved unsuccessful. She wouldn't believe those people would ever harm me. She was convinced they were 'made from the scraps of heaven'... or however the hell she put it. The only one who came close to fitting the description was Bella. She kept to herself, and her faint grin was only given when she stuck her nose into the fresh basil growing at the edge of the garden. She'd tuck some in the pocket of her waist apron and continue her chores.

She became synonymous with the scent. If there was a trail of basil in the house, she wasn't far from it. I only knew the small things about her: the basil, her preferred vegetable (potatoes). I knew she liked jeans and a t-shirt most days, and it seemed she refused to wear shoes while in the garden or house. But, there were still things I didn't know.

Like the truth.

Nights were dreaded. More rustling scratched through the walls, and the hall creaked and moaned as if someone were patrolling. Being alone, I noticed the sounds more than ever and thought about re-joining Alice in her room on the night following the discovery that my tags were missing. But something fastened me to the bed, under the sheets and to the pillow. It willed me not to move, and I did just that. My mind eventually silenced enough where I could sleep. I welcomed any dreams that might come, but none ever did.

If I saw anything, it was the same nightmares of downtown, and being trapped under the rubble. It was never about blood or death, those things I could handle, but life slowly slipping away and there was nothing I could do except watch. That was my nightmare; helplessness.

_**. . . | . . .**_

I plunged the pitch-fork into the dirt and sifted through.

Nothing there.

I did it again.

Nothing there. Oh. _Yes there is._ I plucked the ball into a wheelbarrow a few feet away.

"How's it comin' along over there?" Charlie called through the wall. He was on the other side, engaged in the same activity: cleaning the stalls.

After breakfast, and right before he and Jasper saddled their horses to go after tomorrow's dinner, Emmett had shown me how to do the chore.

Sifting through dirt for animal shit. It was my childhood all over again, only this time I wasn't using my hands. "It's going alright," I said scooping up a wet spot, holding back my disgust for the overwhelming ammonia smell. "Man, this is strong."

"Eh, you'll get used to it after a while. I don't even notice it anymore."

"Sir, don't get me wrong or anything, because I do appreciate all that you and Renee have done for us, but I hope it _never _gets to the point where I don't notice this smell."

His laugh wrapped around the ceiling overhead, and I grinned too.

A few minutes later, he emerged from behind the dark, wooden wall which separated us. "Whelp, I'm all done with mine. When you finish, go on in the house and get some water, and if those women have lunch ready, get'cha somethin' to eat."

"Yes, sir," I said, watching him tow his small load of manure and waste out the back of the barn, where we were to dump the piles.

I made quick work of the final stall, hung up the pitch-fork and wheeled the load to the back and dumped it into the compost heap. Something white caught my eye to the left.

Her.

My mind wandered to some days ago when I first saw her ladling water into her hands and washing off her body in a most innocent, yet seductive way. The image haunted me, viciously and with razor-sharp teeth.

She stood on bare toes at the top of a slender ladder, reaching with one hand into the top branches while the other steadied her weight, a basket draped around that wrist. The same white dress she wore days before stood out against the speckle of red and the green leaves while her hair shimmered in the angled sunlight.

The curve of her back and shoulders when she reached could've been captured and displayed as works of art.

My chest felt smaller as a realization dawned. She had washed and handled my clothes the other day. If anybody had a chance to see those tags, she did. My search yielded zero results, and I'd looked everywhere I'd been the day I lost them. I retraced my steps countless times. I'd looked in the shed while Charlie picked tools for the garden. If they were lying on the ground in there, they would've been easy to spot. But, nothing.

I would ask her discreetly, if possible, if she'd seen my tags. Instead of going into the house I parked the wheelbarrow in the barn. Then, moved toward the back of the property to the small trees which sat against part of the fence across an area of grass. Nearly three-quarters of the way there, she began to twist toward me, and caught my gaze before her foot slipped from it's place on the ladder. I was powerless to stop it, and not nearly close enough to catch her!

The basket slid from her wrist as she fell to the ground, catching herself with her hand but collapsing on it. I ran the rest of the way. She sucked air through her teeth with a slight hiss. I knelt next to her as she lay on her side cradling her wrist, her face wrinkled with pain.

"Holy shit! I'm so sorry. Don't move. What hurts?" She pulled herself into a sitting position, and I resisted my natural instinct to touch her so I could check for injuries, or offer comfort. "I am so sorry. That was my fault. Does your wrist hurt?"

Her injured hand was balled into a fist, but she released the tension and opened her palm. We both stared at her blood-streaked skin. A massive puncture wound in the center of her palm was the culprit. _What did she fall on?_

Tears fell onto her cheeks, and she smeared the red against her white apron before trying to tear away part of her skirt with her fingers, sniffling. She was unsuccessful. I took up the fabric and ripped from the bottom. It tore sideways. I looked to her before ripping the rest away, searching for permission, but she was watching my hands at her knees. "Is this okay?" I asked.

She nodded.

"It's going to go all the way around," I warned. My breath had caught up with the moment and my heart found more of a pace the longer I knelt beside her. Warmth rolled into my forearms and shoulders when her dark, tear-filled eyes met mine.

She nodded again.

I ripped the would-be tourniquet away, pulling it to the sky then reaching underneath her legs to coax it to meet the starting point. "Let me see it," I nearly whispered. With resistance, she allowed her injured hand to stretch out. My fingers held onto one of hers, a slight breath releasing when our skin met. It was slightly rough, like mine. I was sure the contact played on my face along with all the feelings that wanted to burst from every pore as I wound the material around over and over again.

"Good as new," I said, tying the knot on the back of her hand. She turned her palm over, inspecting my job. It wasn't the best bandage and wouldn't last long, but I'd had experience with dressing small wounds while in the field, and knew it would do for now. "Alice probably has something in her bag she can put on it later. She may still have pills for pain."

She gave a puzzled look. "We robbed a couple of hospitals," I said with a puff of amusement. Her teeth weighed on the flesh of her lips and her lashes fluttered before she searched for another object to look at.

The red stain still at the center of her dress attracted my stare. It wasn't as bright as I remembered.

In fact, up close it appeared old. I pointed to it. "I guess it didn't come out?" I felt slightly foolish. _Of course it didn't come out, Edward. _"Well, I guess it wouldn't, would it?"

She looked to it, then to me. She shook her head, eyes alight an expression which seemed effortless with content. I was curious, but maybe she couldn't explain it, and I wasn't sure how to ask yes and no questions not knowing where to start. Charlie did say when we arrived that Jasper and Emmett had killed a bear the same morning. Maybe that's what it was from. The meat needed time to drain, but it wouldn't have had enough time if it was butchered only hours after the kill. It would be bloody. It was logical, and the explanation, truth or not, satisfied me.

If only I could find reason in her silence.

"So," I started, picking a blade of grass beneath me. My stomach lit with quivers. "Your mom told me you weren't always silent."

Her eyes fell to the ground, the corners of her lips withdrew and I was left to look at a woman who was perhaps just as lost and broken as I was. There was something similar in her that I felt in my heart. Lost hope. I swallowed harshly. I didn't know if this topic was off limits. She wasn't like Alice with no boundaries. There was a brick wall between Bella and the world which I wanted to tear down.

She shook her head. _No._

A cool breeze separated us for a moment, stray hairs brushed against her cheeks. I wanted to reach up and smooth them away, but wouldn't. I didn't know how she'd react. Would she be frightened? (_She's not Alice, and won't like it.)_

"So what made you stop talking?" I asked. She inhaled, looking as though she was about to speak, and I waited anxiously for a word, or moan; anything that would carry a hint of her voice, even if it was a whisper. But, instead of speaking, she pointed to her collarbone like it meant something. "Your collarbone?"

_No._

She pointed to a mark that reflected differently in the light than the rest of her skin. A scar. Three of them, to be exact, uniform and parallel.

"Did _he _hurt you?"

She tucked in her lips. I didn't think she was satisfied with my translation. She tried again and again, until I could decipher her silent language. It was like communicating with a child that couldn't speak: pointing, nods, shakes of the head, various facial expressions. It was exhausting, but the more she revealed, the more my heart sank.

She was afraid of her husband. He wasn't a good man, but anybody could tell that. Her mind froze, she explained, and when she showed why, I didn't want to believe it.

"Jasper killed someone in front of you, and it scared you? But, why would he kill someone?"

She grabbed her arm fiercely, then touched her collarbone again.

"They grabbed you?"

_Yes._

"And, he killed them for that?"

_Yes._

I'd wanted to kill men for eyeballing. Wanted to, but hadn't. "Do you think it's because he was trying to protect you?" I asked, wondering if I underestimated the feelings Jasper had for her. Perhaps he genuinely cared for Bella. Maybe Alice was right this time.

She shrugged, eyes to her lap. She fingered the contours of the cloth delicately, then turned her palm to the sky. Blood had seeped through the white.

"I protect Alice like that all the time. Men try to touch her." I reached for her injury, expecting her to shy away, but she didn't. The back of her hand rested in my palm as I inspected under the red-soaked cloth. "It's not bleeding anymore. A couple of drops, but nothing major." I released the bandage, setting it back in its place. "Anyway, that's what families do. They watch out for each other. Maybe that's what he was doing for you."

But, why would she shy away from someone who cared about her? Unless... "Does he hurt you, Bella?"

She shrugged slowly as her frown appeared.

It was answer enough. He'd hurt her before, and he'd do it again. No, Alice wasn't right. Even as I searched Bella's eyes thoroughly, I saw the pain. Our stare lasted for only a moment before she broke, looking at her hand again.

Our hands were still joined. Only they weren't _still_. My thumb grazed over the ripped dress on her palm over and over. I suddenly became aware that I'd been doing it since we first touched.

I removed it. "I'm sorry. I've cut into your work. If it weren't for me you'd probably be done, now." I stood to lift the fallen basket beside the ladder. "Let me help you."

We placed all the apples into the basket, and before she could lift it, it was already in my hand. "I'll hold, you pick. I don't want you falling again." I grinned. A ghost of a smile hugged the curve of her lips as she took a step back then tucked a piece of hair behind her ear before settling onto the ladder. She was allowing me to help her, and I imagined that invisible wall beginning to crumble a little more as I held the basket to my chest, both arms wrapped tightly around it.

More apples piled in, and the movement of her arm captured me. It was a silly thing to think about.

She pushed herself onto the tips of her toes again, the white dress waving in the breeze around her lean legs. I swallowed, imagining them wrapped around my waist. I imagined what her skin would feel like moving beneath mine, or the tickle I would feel if her hair fell over her shoulder and onto my cheek if she were over me. I wouldn't be able to see her face in the darkness unless a lantern was lit or the moon shone brightly, but I knew that I'd be helpless against the expressions that would lift and darken her features. They would change, if only slightly, every second, every movement in pleasure or pain. She would whisper something so faintly that I wouldn't be able to make out her words, and in that mystery, even though it would be mere breath on my ear, I'd find a release to my worries.

But, she wasn't mine. She never would be. She was the wife of a hick. Goddamn asshole, he was. He didn't deserve a wife, especially _her._

If only there was a way to get rid of him. Murder, maybe. I didn't need much reason, just a small incentive to tumble over the edge of sanity for a few moments while I strangled him or put a bullet in his head. I might show him mercy by making it quick. Emmett would need to be dropped first, because surely he wouldn't sit idle while I killed his friend. He'd fight. Hard.

I saw their deaths in my head as I stood at the base of the ladder while Bella lowered fruit. When she finished, she tried to take the basket from me, but I moved it with a smile and low chuckle. "I've got it. You just show me where to put it." She tried so hard to refrain from grinning, but I saw it being held back.

I followed her past the barn. "You know, I remember apples being shiny, and really red." These weren't. They were faint; yellow and pink brushed along each other to create an interesting pattern. Of course she didn't acknowledge, and I didn't expect her to. I'd just wanted to make conversation as we walked to the side of the house and stopped in front of two wide doors slanted into the ground. She opened them one by one and entered, stepping down slowly. I followed close behind, making sure I knew where each wooden step was before I put my foot down.

The air was musty and much cooler. The only light we had was behind us. Empty baskets and odd pieces of small furniture littered the floor while the shelves looked to be full of jars, books, old electronics and other various items. It all looked normal, stuff that any household would have in a basement-like area. It felt like a normal basement, cluttered, but slightly creepy the further we walked into the dark, with shelves collecting dust in our way. There was a flicker of light on the other side. Perhaps a lantern for whoever ventured down from the house.

"Bella, where are you?" I whispered into the shadow, having lost sight of my silent guide. She stuck out her head from behind a shelf, illuminated by a ray of light coming from the double-door entrance. "I'm going to get lost in here if you run off without me."

She pointed to the shelf where she wanted the basket. I set it down. "That's it, huh? Just pick 'em and shelve 'em?"

She nodded.

"Awesome." I stretched my arms over my head, stepping out of her way so she could shuffle past, but she didn't. She stood there, mostly covered in dark, staring at me. Her hands moved over one another in front of her. There was weight in her stare, and it made my stomach warm. I swallowed. We were alone, and it was my chance to ask her about the tags, but as I began to speak she moved.

She wasn't aggressive or confident in her movements when she stepped toward me. In fact, she seemed unsure, but it didn't stop her. The closer she moved, the more energy she gave. It seduced me as her fingers feathered over my shirt when she leaned in, causing me to flinch.

Denying I wanted it would've made me a liar, and when she pressed her mouth to my bottom lip, I didn't want to hide the truth. I embraced her kiss, hugging her top lip between my own.  
>The ache that built inside me couldn't be torn down. It was an ache that had been erected slowly over time. Those were the most dangerous kind, the most wanting and needing. I was afraid of that desire. I was afraid of its discovery, of what it would lead to. It was dangerous to be with her, but I hadn't been with a woman in so long, and she felt so good leaning against me.<p>

I thought of her on the ladder, and legs that went on forever under that dress. It was only an arm's length away, that vision. We'd only get one chance, that chance, right there and then.  
>When she pulled away from our brief touch to slip back into the shadow, my hips twisted with agony and longing. I wanted to move to touch her again, but instead, a huff of amusement escaped my chest. Joy. Elation. Something of that sort. "What was that for?" I asked.<p>

Her chin touched her shoulder and she cast her eyes to the concrete beneath, darkness creeping even more over her skin. Was she embarrassed? Did she regret it? Was she ashamed?

I didn't want her to feel any of those things. More than anything, I wanted her to know it was alright. Her action wasn't unwarranted, much less something to feel ashamed of. My finger pulled her chin into the light, raising her to me so that I could see her face once more. The closer I looked the more I saw. There were specks of gold captured by her irises, almost iridescent. Unusual for such dark eyes. So full of curiosity and wonder, possibly desire.

Her hair was soft under my fingertips as I brushed it away from her temple with both hands, only to let them fall to her shoulders then arms with delicate intentions. Cold-skinned and shivering, her teeth played on her bottom lip after a quick brush of her tongue. It glistened invitingly, and the pain I'd felt before, full of want, turned to need. There would be nothing to satisfy the man constructing himself inside my skin except her.

Like gradual heat from damp leaves, I leaned forward, asking her to meet me halfway with a small flourish of my fingers against the back of her arm. My pulse quickened when it was apparent she didn't need a lot of convincing. She wanted to kiss me. She wanted _me_, even if only in that stolen moment.

Our breaths collided before our lips met once more. A brief touch, then we parted, only slightly.

Another touch. Longer than the first, then parted.

Another touch, more firm, more sure. No space came between us. Achingly slow, I pulled and pushed her lips against mine until there was rhythm and closure, then openness and damp.

I stroked the back of her neck, allowing myself to become absorbed in her skin and hair, the smell of basil filled me, set me on fire. And when a breathy whimper from her mouth filled the small space between our lips, the ache soared, rose above my head and swallowed us.

God, I wanted her. I wanted to surround myself with her body, to bury and never emerge again. We'd drown. I wanted to drown. Suicide would be found with her because I was a dead man if anyone found us. I'd risk death to feel her around me.

_BANG!_

My eyes were open. My heart began to race and I eased her away from me. Frightened to turn around, I stared into her face and thought it wise to conceal us in the dark corner. I pushed on her hips until her back met the wall then peered over each of my shoulders.

No movement. No person. No Jasper.

_No Jasper._

Jasper.

Her husband.

What was I doing?

_What are you doing?_

It was stupid. _It is stupid._

We shouldn't even be down here.

Not like this.

Her hands twisted into my shirt at my waist. Her head turned away from doors and light, staring further into the cellar which seemed to carry on endlessly. "What was that?" I whispered into her ear, trying to see past the wall of shelves. Darkness engulfed me, as it did her and we remained until we were certain there was nothing there. "They're going to be looking for us soon. Let's get out of here."

I lead her to the stairs, emerging from the cool dank and into the warmth of daylight. I stepped up just until I could peer over the double doors angling toward the ground._Nothing. _My chest which had been churning with worry loosened and I stepped the rest of the way, but tripped over the final step. I caught myself before I fell, and couldn't help but huff with a grin, embarrassed. Bella's eyes shone with amusement, dimples pushing into her cheeks from her barely-there smirk as she stepped up the stairs, her skirt gathered in one hand, with more grace than me.

I wanted to reach down to offer help, and even did, but played it off by putting my hand into my pocket.

Not smart. Not smart. Not smart. _Not where anyone can see us. You just kissed her... another man's wife!_ _Lay low. Pretend it never happened._

But, how could I? How could I lie to myself when I wanted to do it again? I wanted to pull her back into the cellar and close the doors behind us, locking us in the dark from where our secret wouldn't escape.

We lowered the doors back to the frame unaware of the third person that had joined us.

"What are you smiling about?"

I froze. _Shit_.

I turned to face him - the man I dreaded seeing since mine and Bella's lips parted a few moments earlier. His clothes hadn't changed since this morning, and he hid behind his hat as usual. There was an echo of familiarity in his stare, a warning he'd given me when I looked at Bella. Stay away, it said.

A strange feeling swung between us, and I wanted nothing more than for it to be swept away with the wind, like decay. I wanted the air to clear. I wanted my breaths, strung with guilt, to slow so the panic wouldn't show on my face while he waited for an answer.

Did he know? Had he crept down the stairs while I was distracted? Fuck! "No reason," I replied, then exhaled softly. "Just helping Bella with some apples she picked. She had hurt her hand earlier."

He gave one nod. "Renee mentioned you hadn't been in for lunch yet. Why don't you go get you somethin' to eat. It's been a while since you've been done, right?"

"Not too long," I reasoned, hoping to disarm his cryptic tone. But the only way to lessen his intensity was to move away from Bella, to show him I had no interest in his wife. Any suspicion he had was unfounded... at least in his mind. I glanced at Bella, but those once-curious brown eyes were expressionless and now belonged to Jasper.

I took a few steps then rounded the corner of the house to swing the screen door open. The family, including Alice, were gathered in the kitchen. Charlie and Emmett hovered over plates at the table. Charlie had already cleared his, but it appeared Emmett had just began. His big arms were guarding the round edges of his food, like an animal ready to defend what was his. Renee and Alice clanked around at the counter, and when Alice flashed her eyes to mine they told of unhappiness. Perhaps she was tired, and I'd finally be able to convince her to give up these lessons from a tired, old woman.

I moved to pour a glass of water. "Get anything?" I asked Emmett.

He finished chewing before answering. "Naw, nothin'."

I took a small sip from my glass, not wanting to finish it too quickly. "There's always tomorrow."

"Maybe," Charlie said rubbing his palms against his face then clasped them together in front of him on the table. "We've gotta lot of stuff to do around here tomorrow."

"You have him here." Emmett pointed to me.

Charlie shook his head. "But, I don't have time to teach him all y'all know."

"So, we just gonna go without meat the next few days? Eat like vegetarians and starve?"

Renee chortled behind me, and I took another sip of water. "Emmett," she said, taking something small from Alice, "we're not gonna starve. We have more than enough for everyone."

"We need meat, Ma. We can't just eat vegetables."

"We eat 'em all the time."  
>"But we need protein."<p>

I set my glass on the counter so I could use it later. "You could always eat a few more eggs at breakfast if you want protein. Also, there's protein in some vegetables," I suggested.

But Emmett wasn't satisfied. He shook his head in disgust. _He'd never survive on the road._  
>Although he was large and tough-looking, he seemed, I dunno... like a spoiled brat.<p>

"You'd know, wouldn't you, city boy? Where'd you say you was from again? San Diego? How many fags they got livin' there?" He said it all without taking his eyes off his plate, probably treasuring the last meat he'd eat for the next couple of days.

It wasn't the end of the world.

That had already happened.

I could've come back with some smart-ass remark about him being from Texas or some shit, but my thoughts and attention no longer belonged inside the house. There was something happening outside that no one, not even Alice, was alerted to. At first, I thought nothing of it, but the closer I listened, the more my brow furrowed. My boots carried me across the tile floor then through the screen door like it wasn't even there.

My ears burned, my body soaked with adrenaline by the time I was down to the ground from the house in one stride, looking for the noise.

Jasper and Bella came into my sight. My teeth gnashed when I saw him dragging her by the elbow toward the barn. She resisted, dug her bare heels into the ground and tore at his fingers with her free hand. He pulled her fiercely, then snapped his hand across her face, blowing her to the ground!

"Son of a bitch!" I muttered, nearly breathless. My nails dug into my palms.

I'd kill him!

I felt the ground twist under me when I lunged forward into a sprint as he pulled her from the dirt. On my toes, I was silent, and he didn't even hear my approach until I was merely feet away. He turned toward me and tried to brace for my impact, but it was too late. A roar escaped my throat as I barreled into his torso with my shoulder, and we fell to the ground with huffs and groans.

I wanted to land on top of him to gain the upper hand, but the impact threw us apart, and agony split through my ribs when I hit the dirt. Bella had also ended up on the ground, struggling to get up and away from us.

I rolled over and rose with ease, but winced when I stood straight. Jasper was up before me, his hat in the dirt and hair matted to his head. His clothes were dusty, and soon to be bloody.

He started for me, a low yell echoing off the outer barn walls with a fist reared behind him. I let him come. I let him believe he'd get a punch in, but when he swung I ducked and blew a fist into his stomach causing him to double over. I barely felt the pain throbbing in my side as I kicked him in his. He fell and I sat on top of his stomach.

I thought of pushing my hands into his tender throat and watching the life slowly drain from his eyes, but I wanted more than that. I wanted him to feel pain. He tried to push me off, a pathetic attempt, but I punched him across the face. Again and again.

Again.

Again.

Blood sprayed from his lip and nose, and before I could get another punch in I was hauled off.

"Get off me!" I yelled, fighting the arms across my chest. They held me tight, and I knew from the flex of the forearms it was Emmett. Still, I pushed against him, struggling to finish off the man on the ground. He turned over, picked himself up and faced me. The grip around me tightened when Jasper's scowl turned into a smirk. He bared his teeth and I braced for the blow.  
>My head snapped to the left as the pain from the impact spread across my cheek. I thought my eye would explode! Another across my right sent my head in the other direction. Agony pursued me.<p>

"Yeah! Hit him again!" Emmett shouted. I fought him, but there was no escape from his arms when mine were pinned to my ribs. As pain gouged into my sockets and seeped its way into my head, Jasper spit the blood from his mouth, nursing his knuckles. He stepped in once again to throw another punch with a smirk on his face.

I pushed off Emmett's chest with my back, ribs aching, and lifted my hips to kick Jasper in the chest. He fell backward to the ground. I thrust the back of my head into Emmett's face. His arms became lax. Breaking free, I seized Jasper's hair as he tried to push himself from the ground. A growl slipped through my lips as I thrust my knee into his face. He moaned then fell back.

Massive arms wrapped around me once more, holding me in place. Jasper got up, but I couldn't do anything before he approached and delivered a sharp blow with his shin to my groin. I moaned, coughed, wanted to spit blood, wanted to die. He stole the air from my lungs and pulled tears from the recesses.

"Fuck, dude!" Emmett shouted as we both leaned over. "You got me, too!"

It felt as though a vice had squeezed me.

"What the hell is going on out here?" Charlie yelled behind us.

Emmett released me, but I didn't have the strength to stand right away and fell to my knees cupping myself and wishing away the pain.

"Edward?" Alice said, yards away from us.

"He fuckin' started it!" Jasper said, wiping the blood away from his face. His flannel was stained, but it wasn't enough.

I lunged for him again, and pulled on his shirt, bringing him to my fist. Knocked back, he stumbled. I attacked with the other hand.

Blocked.

Fire spread across my cheek.

I countered, ignoring all the pain that gathered beneath the surface. I flung every punch I could. Some hit, some didn't.

"Edward! Stop it!" Alice said, pushing me away from him before stepping between us. "What's the matter with you?"

"He hit her!" I shouted, pointing at Bella who had backed away from everything. Her cheeks glistened in the sun as she wrung her hands in front of her.

"Edward, I think it's time for you to go inside, now," Charlie said nodding toward the house. "Go get cleaned up and cool down."

"Yeah, go get cleaned up, you pussy boy," Jasper said.

"Son of a bitch!" I stepped toward him again, anger driving me. Death held my fists as I raised them once more, but Charlie pushed me back. Emmett had stepped behind Jasper and pulled on his arms.

"Come on!" I yelled. "You and me! Right now! I'll kill you!"

"We just did that, Princess! You lost!" he taunted from behind Emmett's massive limbs.

"Edward! Edward! Stop!" Alice tried to reason as she pushed on my chest, but I didn't want to hear it. I wanted to hurt him.

"You only got in a shot cause your boyfriend helped you!"

His eyes widened. "That's it!" He tore at me, and if it weren't for everyone pushing against us, we could have finished it.

"Both of you!" Renee screamed. "Enough!" she pushed against Jasper, then pushed harder against me. I'd never seen a woman look at me like she did. The way her brow dipped into her eyes was slightly frightening. Emmett pulled Jasper. Charlie and Alice pushed me away.

Something trickled down my lips. I wiped it away with the sleeve of my shirt. Blood.

"Go upstairs!" Renee yelled.

"You ever touch her again," I said, pointing a finger, "and I'll kill you."

He heard me, but his reaction was strange. He smiled.

"Go, Edward!" Renee said again. "Don't come back down until you've cooled off!"

I made my way up to my room, Alice in tow. She shut the door behind us and locked it. Not that it would ever do any good.

I peeled off my shirt and tossed it into the corner. The late afternoon sunlight revealed my injuries in the mirror. I had a busted lip and a bloody nose, possibly a cracked rib, and later I'd have a black eye. My balls were on fire and though the adrenaline still coursed and dulled the pain, I gradually I felt it more and more.

"What the hell are you doing?" Alice asked, folding her arms across her chest.

I answered in the most sarcastic tone I had as I dipped the washcloth into the old, cold water in the basin from last night. "Cleaning myself off." I regretted it right after, knowing Alice wasn't to blame for what happened. I pressed the wet cloth to my face and began to wipe. I winced and hissed from the pain.

"That's not what I meant."

"Then what is it that you _meant_?" The stained cloth slowly turned the water red. I wrung it, then began to wipe again. "What did you mean?" I asked again when she didn't answer me. Her face was in the mirror, but she moved. The bed squeaked slightly under her weight.

"I saw you," she muttered. "In the cellar."

My lungs ceased to work properly. She knew, but how much? I dropped the rag then turned to look her in the eyes, but only saw the top of her head. "What did you see?"

She began fooling with her nails, picking what ever was underneath them; it was a nervous habit she had. "Everything."

I swallowed and wanted to disappear. Her tone might as well have killed me. I didn't know how intensely she felt for me, how deep her love was rooted until that moment - until that one, small word. _Everything._

"Alice, I... I don't know what happened down there. She kissed me, then, I dunno."

"I know what happened. You don't have to tell me. I've memorized it by now." She rubbed her palm against her cheek and pressed her fingertips into her eyes. "Why? She's married. Why her?"

I didn't have an answer. "Because I was stupid and..." _Aroused. Don't say aroused. _"Just stupid."

"You were more than that. I don't blame Jasper for kicking your ass. I would've done the same thing. But imagine what he would do if he found out you kissed her. He'd kill you." She paused. "Like I wanna do to her."

_For a kiss?_"She didn't do anything wrong."

"She kissed you and she's married. Where I come from, that's wrong."

"But that's between her and her husband, not you and her. She hates him. He abuses her, and she was probably reaching out to someone she felt she could trust."

"Then why not her mom?" she asked. "Why not her father?"

"Maybe she doesn't trust them. I mean, they treat her like shit."

She stood. "I know that. Ever thought why?"

"More than you can imagine."

Her scrutiny became disinterest as her chin fell to her collarbone. "What is it that you want?"

We'd been over this a million times it seemed, and I was tired of answering the question. "You know what I want."

"Do you want her?"

"I can't have her," I whispered. "You know that."

"But, you're obviously interested."

"It was a kiss, Alice. It was nothing!"

"It's not nothing to me!" Her voice — hurt — wavered. Tears perked, then dripped when she blinked. She wrapped her arms around herself. "It's everything."

Without a motion, she drew me near. I wanted to tell her it would be alright. "Alice, I..."

The expression she wore turned cold, angry. "Don't." The slight shake of her head, although small, halted my steps. She wiped her cheeks and with a heavy breath asked, "Can we leave?"

"Leave? When?"

"I don't know. Soon. Tomorrow?"

I hated to leave without my tags. I hated having that part of me lost. Although they were close by, they might as well be a million miles away. However, I feared for our safety and tried to convince Alice we needed to leave for the past week, but she refused. After what happened, I couldn't show my face downstairs again. So, I nodded. It was time. "First thing tomorrow," I said, low.

"Just you and me?"

My eyes closed on her question. A memory — the darkness in the cellar — swallowed me as I spoke. "Yes."

She unhinged her arms from around herself with a grin that barely touched her lips. Before she walked through the door, she turned. "Are you gonna come down for dinner in a bit?"

I had already picked the wash cloth up again, waving it in the shallow bowl. "No, not tonight."

"I'll bring you something, then, after I help Renee."

I acknowledged her in the mirror, then she disappeared, shutting the door on me. I packed the few things I had laid out into my sack, then decided to empty everything out so I could re-pack neatly. Dirt and some old, small pieces of leaves fell onto the bed and floor. I picked up what I could then changed my socks.

I shined my boots and polished my knife after shaving the bristles from my face and neck. My guns were the only things missing, and Charlie said he'd put those away for me. I sat on the edge of the bed while the day quietly shifted into dusk. Dusk turned to night and still, I waited for Alice. I lay back on the pillow after lighting a candle, watching the glow wave and flicker across the patterns on the ceiling.

The uneasiness that accompanied being on the upper level of the house set in and kept me awake until I could no longer fight the swelling of my lids, muscles and bones.

Undisturbed.

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><p><em>Ow<em> by Stephan Moccio

(beautiful, sad piece. found easiest on youtube.)


	12. Chapter 12: Dead Man Walking

_._

_Sorry for the delay! I wanted to post the remaining chapters all together, but it would take about two more weeks to do so. I was too excited, and couldn't wait to share with you. _

_I hope to have it wrapped up before New Years. _

_Thanks to **Alby Mangroves** for her support and efforts to pre-read this story for the last chapters. She is amazing, and any mistakes are my own since I add and take away after she's through._

_Thanks for reading!_

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><p>The floodgates cannot hold all my sorrow, all my rage.<p>

- _The Other Side_, David Gray

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><p><strong>. . . | . . .<strong>

**C H A P T E R - T W E L V E:**

_Dead Man Walking_

**~. . . . -=|=- . . . .~**

I blinked against the punishing early light. My eyes burned, raw with sleep as I allowed life to sink into the haze. The unique stink of burned rope and fat lingered. My sack sat upright in the center of the room. I'd packed it.

I'd fought with Jasper and Emmett.

Alice and I were leaving today.

She followed me in here last night. She saw me with Bella. Was she still mad?

She offered to bring me food when she finished helping Renee after dinner. I fell asleep, but there was no sign she had ever returned. No food. No glass of water. Nothing except the two-day-old water in the basin on the chest.

Nothing.

I ran a palm over my face and flinched, understanding why my eyes hurt so badly. Fearing the image I'd see in the mirror, I tied my boots first, gasping from the exertion, then stood in front of the square-framed mirror. Under my eyes, rings of black distorted my appearance to a creature who looked less alive, and cuts tore into my skin across my cheeks.

I sponged the wounds, then straightened the bed like I was never there before looking around to make sure I hadn't missed anything.

The room was just how it was the night it was given to me, and I hoped it would soon be just a memory.

I lifted my sack to my shoulders, carrying the water bowl from the room and to Alice's to see if she was there.

She wasn't.

Her belongings were still out. The sheets on the bed were pulled tight and straight, like she had done every morning. Slightly put-off by her not being packed and ready to go, I ventured downstairs to find her, expecting to see her hanging around the kitchen, but there was only Renee. She sat at the table with a basket of potatoes next to her, working hard to peel away the skins with her small knife. She once referred to them as _winter food_, declaring it was their most abundant crop during the colder months.

I hesitated on greeting her, remembering how she looked at me last night. She had changed into someone more fierce and protective instead of the calm, motherly woman I'd come to know. "Good morning." I cleared my throat.

She looked up. "Mornin'," she said before returning her attention to her work. "That's some face you have."

I set the bowl on the counter behind her. I would dump the grisly water before we left. The air felt charged this morning; whispers of electricity pricked my skin and set me on edge. An eerie calm touched every surface, and an unknown clinking tickled my ears.

"Yes, ma'am. Have you seen Alice this morning?"

The knife scraped against the potato several times before she answered, "She's gone with Bella to get water."

My muscles relaxed when I heard she'd seen her, but the tension became solid once more. "Did someone go with them?"

She shook her head, not bothering to look at me.

"Do you know when they will be back?"

"I reckon when they're through."

"I should go help them," I said, moving toward the front hall.

"You always runnin' off to save somebody?"

I stopped and turned. "What?"

"That's what Alice said. You're always runnin' off to save someone."

_Clink. Clink. Clink. Clink._

The distant noise distracted me, briefly pulling my attention away from our conversation, but I stepped forward to stand in front of Renee. She didn't look up, didn't acknowledge my presence any more than she had to, I supposed. I sat my bag on the floor next to the wall so it wouldn't be in the way if someone walked through.

"Depends on who it is that needs saving."

She peered up at me, conjuring an all-knowing look. I guessed her suspicion about her daughter and me.

"About last night," I continued, "things got out of hand. I'm sorry for any trouble I caused your family. We'll be leaving as soon as Alice gets back."

_Clink. Clink. Clink._

That noise once more. _Where is it coming from?_

"You're involved with her aren't you?"

"Alice? No." We weren't _involved_. "She's my friend."

She huffed. "As much as she chases after you, hoping you'll pay her some kinda attention, I know you'll have nothing to do with her. You've got your eye on something else, don't you?"

"I don't know what you mean." But I did.

She pushed away from the table, dumping the peeled potatoes in the porcelain basin to wash them, like she'd done on so many other occasions; only this time, it felt different. Perhaps it was the way she glanced at me before letting them fall from the dinged-up metal bowl. Her eyes cut to mine, searing the hope from my mind. It was a skeptical look, much like Jasper's at the cellar door after I had emerged with Bella.

He had known, then. Renee knew now. Had I been so obvious in my interactions with that girl? Yes, I wanted her, and at times I could think of nothing more than pulling her close to me. Her silent charm, the way she moved, the mystery which engulfed her every curve turned my interest into fascination. Along with it rose a desire more dangerous than any other in my years, and last night she broke me. My emotions clouded my head after our kiss ― my demise.

"Oh, please," she said, swishing her fingers through the water. "Don't play dumb with me. You know exactly what I mean." She brushed her hands off on her stained, white apron. "You don't think I know when someone has their eye on my child?"

"With all due respect, I don't think it's me you should be concerned about. How about the man, who's supposed to protect her, dragging her out to the barn to do God knows what? You don't even flinch when it's him."

_Clink. Clink. Clink._

"Jasper has done so much for us. I don't have to explain myself to you. You don't know me or my reasons. You don't know anything about this family, or what we've gone through."

"I'd like to understand. I've been wanting to."

"But you don't need to!"

Renee Swan was a foolish woman, regardless of what she had done to help Alice and me. The indifference she showed toward her daughter was unreasonable, but I began to wonder if Alice was right about the girl I thought was innocent. What had Bella done to evoke such emotions? Or, was she the price paid for Jasper's and Emmett's protection, and perhaps Charlie and Renee were unable to stop what was done to her? It was a sickening thought and my gut turned, stopping me from dwelling on it any further.

She may have been a fool, but Renee was right. This place ― their family ― was none of my business.

_Clink. Clink._

My brow furrowed at the persistent, interrupting noise. "What is that?"

Her gaze met mine briefly. "What's what?"

A moment later it came again. _Clink. Clink. Clink._

"That."

She shook her head. Did she hear it, or had I completely lost my mind?

"Oh,_ that_ noise?"

"Yes," I said. "_That noise_. What is that?"

She pulled a basket from the counter and hung it on the crook of her arm, finally saying, "Probably Charlie fiddling around with something in the basement." She walked through the screen door without another word.

I lingered in the kitchen momentarily, not bothering to follow her out the door. I could tell she wasn't interested in speaking with me any further. This family proved to be more than odd, and I knew when my welcome was worn out. Alice's suggestion to leave was a good idea.

_The sooner, the better._

I had to say good-bye to Bella before we left, and even though I promised Alice it would just be us, I wouldn't leave her if she had changed her mind about going with us.

Maybe Alice would understand.

I closed the front door with care then cut across the front yard, each step crunching on the freshly fallen leaves. The cool, clean air filled my lungs with soft hints of autumn as a pleasant breeze stirred the colorful foliage around my boots. They would dance briefly then glide to the ground again.

The early sun nearly blinded me once again as I stepped onto the dusty, dormant road which would take me past the house and to the edge of the woods I had called home for a few short days. I'd find the river just beyond, where she waited. They waited.

My stomach tightened with the thought of seeing them together. Did Alice say anything to Bella, and if so, what?

I began to jog, knowing I couldn't stand a slower pace. I passed the corner of the house and glanced over my shoulder. The faded red barn dominated everything. A collection of yellow, orange and red trees splattered behind it in unorganized clumps. I imagined the branches would become bare soon and that barn would be the only color around that farm. A figure emerged from the back entrance and I stopped, finding it difficult to understand why_ he_ was there. Charlie was at the waste piles, shoveling manure into a large bucket. Renee said he was tinkering around downstairs. How did he walk to the back of the barn so fast? Unless, he was never down... there.

The once-pleasant air escaped my lungs, and the tightness in my stomach turned into nausea. My knees felt as though they would give under weight of realization as it poured over me one heart beat at a time. What I thought, what I believed, was a lie. Nothing existed in that moment except the pounding in my head and the cranking of adrenaline as I began to shake. I moved toward the house at full sprint, my arms pumping and my legs exerting more force than I could have ever imagined.

_Alice._

The harder I pushed, the more my body developed a painful bond with the cool air. It spread between my ribs and stung my lungs, but it wasn't the air I felt sending chills across my skin. It was fear, and I had never been more scared in my life than when I tore through the front door of that house, ripping off its disguise.

_I'm coming, Al. Hold on. I'm coming._

My breaths were erratic as my palm turned the cold knob of the first door in the hall just below the creaky steps. I thought it would slip from my grasp, but I held firm. The cold air hit me, an invisible slap to the face when it wafted from the basement. An orange-tinted glow embraced a single wall, faintly lighting the descent into darkness. Then, there was nothing except pitch-black.

_Clink. Clink. Clink._

The noise was louder but had weakened, a dying breath of what it once was. Only now I deciphered clearly what caused it; metal striking metal.

A muffled tone emanated from the dark.

"Alice?" I called out as I began the descent into Hell. I didn't know what I would stumble upon in the darkness. I'd never been down that particular area of the cellar, but I'd find her and get her out. I was too frightened to think what they had done or planned to do with her.

There was nothing except the cold pushing against my skin. "Let me know where you are." The jangle came again, more lively. Once I was sure of the last step I turned to my left, toward the sound, searching with my hands in front of me. "I'm here," I said into nothingness, hoping to give her comfort. "I'm gonna get you out."

A delicate sob filled my ears. I continued to walk straight, toeing each step so I wouldn't trip over anything, or step on her. My path was surprisingly clear.

_Clink. Clink._

With each move the energy shifted, and I became more aware of her presence. I could sense her body through the inky cellar. Her breaths were loud and my heart turned into pulp from the sound of her sniffling.

My foot hit a solid but yielding object. I knelt, reaching to find flesh and when my fingertips brushed cloth, relief cloaked my thoughts.

She clinked and jingled the chains, wherever they were, and cried. Why didn't she speak? My hands rested on her hips, slanted from the wall, and I wanted to pull her to stand. I wanted to wrap my arms around her and apologize for ever letting her out of my sight, for being a jerk.

"I should've known better," I whispered, finding my voice flooding with emotion as my hands rose over the contours of her form.

The relief I felt disappeared when hair tickled my knuckles before I reached the swell of her chest. Alice's hair wasn't_ that_ long.

I searched to find cheeks and did. Wet, cold cheeks with a thick barrier at her mouth. They felt narrow, angling down toward a slender jaw and thin neck. This wasn't Alice.

I found the gag which clung stubbornly to her face. Smooth, thick tape. I ran a finger down the bridge of the nose then under and over the eye, finishing the circle over the eyebrow.

My declaration was hoarse. My fingers slid through her hair to the back of her head as I positioned myself over her more. A sandpaper-like wall scraped against my knuckles, but I persisted, resting my forehead against hers. "Bella."

She sniffled, her breaths colliding against the barrier at her mouth. I peeled it away, surprised how adhesive it was through all the tears. She gasped, her breath hitting my face.

"What are you doing down here? Why would they do this to you?" My chest split in two as the question I feared most lingered in the back of my throat. I didn't know if she would answer me. I exhaled harshly, cupping her wet cheeks. "Where's Alice?"

No words. Just excited, incoherent blubbers, and the chains clanking as she moved against me, wanting freedom.

_Where's Alice?_ The question remained until I no longer wanted to believe what they might have done with her, until the nausea in my stomach turned sour with hate.

"I'll be back for you." I rose, distancing myself and I rushed through the dark, tripping once on something unknown.

She called out, saying what sounded like no.

"I'll be back. I promise," I said once more before taking the stairs two at a time into the light.

My heavy breath lapped over the silence. I was alone in the hallway and my terror lingered on every nerve, turning the calm space into an vast collage of revulsion._ If only I had my guns. I'd use the bullets now._ I had no time to look for them.

I slid a finger over the rough rubber handle of the knife on my belt, then pulled it from it's sheath to fold it against my forearm, unseen by anyone facing me. The kitchen was still cloaked in a strange familiar warmth which had been there since we arrived, when an uneasiness wasn't plucking at the hairs on the back of my neck.

Those days were no more.

The potatoes Renee peeled floated soundlessly in the water. A peek out the large window over the basin revealed her in the garden, her large hat atop her head and faithful dark basket by her side as she picked from the last of her precious summer plants. Liar. Fraud. Deceitful. Out of them all, I least expected her to allow her own daughter to be mistreated._ Concerned motherly-type._ My grip tightened on the knife.

I peeked out the screen door. No sign of Charlie from the barn, or Jasper and Emmett. I stepped from the house, searching in my periphery for any movement. Nothing. I moved forward, slowly at first, picking up the pace once away from the shadowy walls.

"What are you doing?" Renee's voice was a mere tickle compared to the blood rushing to my ears from my heart. Her white form rose in the corner of my eye, but she wasn't a threat so I didn't stop.

Anger boiled in my chest and bubbled through my shoulders, causing my palm to grind into the handle of the knife. My eyes were on the shed doors. It was the nightmare that played a million times in the back of my head.

_Why didn't you go after her last night?_

_Why didn't you see why she was taking so long?_

_They've hurt her. They've killed her._

My eyes were hot, vision wanting to blur. I couldn't think such things. I had to hope for the best and expect the worst.

Renee called for me once again, a final plea, then called for Charlie as I reached the unlocked shed doors and pulled them open simultaneously.

Jasper and Emmett stood with their backs to me next to the butchering platform, and both turned as I entered.

My mouth dropped and my chest could no longer hold oxygen. I was deprived of air and warmth. I was numb, yet on the verge of insanity from the pain exploding in my chest.

Blurred sight.

No air.

Knees weakened.

I didn't understand, yet knew everything at once.

"Alice," I said, wavering. My heart ruptured and I felt it everywhere: my chest, feet, arms and in the air. I didn't want to look, but couldn't look away. Her once-fair skin was red, streaked with blood which ran down the length of her bare body to her chest and neck. Lines of it. Smears. Her hands were bound and dangled below her head. Her face was covered by her hair. Her feet were roped and hung from one of many hooks dangling from the ceiling.

She flinched with sudden ferocity when I called her name once more. She was alive! She moaned against the gag.

I began to move past the doors.

"You come any closer and she's dead_ right now_," Jasper said, and pointed a butterfly knife to her exposed jugular.

I stopped. I believed him, but knew he was using her to get to me. "Please," I begged through a heavy breath. "Let her go. She has nothing to do with you and me."

"I figure she has a lot to do with it. You took somethin' of mine, so I'm gonna take somethin' of yours."

"I didn't take anything."

"Bullshit you didn't. My whole goddamn family noticed it, too! I didn't really know until last night with what you said about killin' me if I ever touched her again." He huffed in amusement. "That right there was a sure sign that you had gotten too deep."

"I didn't do anything with your wife," I said with confidence, hoping he'd believe me.

"There are only a few reasons why men go to war: land and women. You should know that, Ed."

Jasper reached into his pocket. He opened his palm and allowed the object to swing freely around his index finger.

My tags!

"It appears my wife was hidin' these." He eyed them. "Y'all've been keepin' secrets, but I knew there was something wrong with you the minute I saw you leanin' in that doorway." He dropped his hand, still clutching my property in his palm. "But you're different, aren't you?"

"Let her go," I said, balling my fist and clenching the handle tighter. "You don't want her. You want me! Me, not her!"

Jasper shook his head with a grin. "I know what you're doing, but it won't work. You're not like the rest of them. You're in black, and maybe that's why I didn't put it all together at first." He looked to Emmett. "We're so used to seeing green, but you're a special breed of soldier aren't you, Edward? Special Ops, maybe?"

"If you believe that then you already know how easy it would be for me to kill you. I know you don't want to die. Let her go and we'll leave now. That'll be the end of it."

"I'll let her go, alright. When I shit her out and you're rottin' in the woods where you belong. If only you could be alive to taste her."

"You'd probably enjoy it, too, considering you didn't enjoy her any other way," Emmett said, propping himself against a vertical beam.

Jasper nodded. "We were surprised when we found out she hadn't been fucked properly in a long time, but don't you worry about that, Eddie boy. We gave her one last hoorah."

She moaned when he slapped the back of her bare thigh. He only fueled my fire, turning the weakness in my heart to unbridled rage.

"It's okay, Al. I'm gonna get you out of here," I said, noting the old, wooden table to my left.

"Yeah, lie to her," Jasper said. "Lie to her like you've lied to us."

There was no more numbness. I felt the world shift, turning with me like it had countless times before as I absorbed my surroundings. The air, no longer cool, flushed my skin with heat and there were a thousand shades of gray in that rusty, old shed. I felt lighter, more agile, bursting with strength a hundred men would be jealous of.

In my periphery, out of all the jumbled mess on that table, I made out a deeply-curved, rusted hook with a horizontal handle. It seemed to be an older hand tool, but I didn't know what it was used for. However, I knew how_ I_ would use it.

"I'm going to kill you," I said, twitching the sharp blade against the back of my forearm and mentally charting the way to reach for the hook. "That's the truth."

Emmett's eyes locked with mine. He would die first. He had to, otherwise he'd hold me while Jasper finished me off. I weighed my actions carefully. I couldn't step toward them, or Jasper would make good on his promise. So, I grinned arrogantly and shuffled to the left. "You look scared," I directed to the behemoth. "You should be."

His face twitched, showing the aggravation building under his once-calm expression. He looked to Jasper, who nodded. Even though their exchange was quick before they both directed their attention back to me, I knew what it meant. _Kill him._

Emmett's steps were lively, quick, like a bull from a pen and I prepared, anticipating his movements. He had no idea what fate was about to hand him as he raised his large fists to knock me back to the ground and out the doors.

He swung, and his movements would be crippling if he managed to hit me. I ducked and stepped to my left, slipping my fingers around the grip of the hook on the table. Emmett turned and advanced toward me once more as Jasper watched on next to Alice.

He swung ferociously over my head as I ducked and stepped to him, flipping the blade out and digging it low in his abdomen. There was resistance as the knife tore through the muscles. I pulled it back and he stumbled with an agonizing groan, then sucked air through his teeth and looked down at the red seeping through his white t-shirt. He would bleed, but he wouldn't be out of my way.

"Mother fucker," he gasped, and pushed his palms over the wound with a look of surprised. It looked like he wanted to bow to the pain and fall to the floor, but he stood.

In the past, most of my fights would end here. They would be stabbed or hurt and I would back down because my point was proven: don't fuck with me. This time, I would have no mercy.

My eyes soared over Alice once more. I regretted nothing as I raised the hook and brought it down into the side of his neck. He attempted to block, but it was too late. The damage had been done and it would be fatal, unlike the shallow knife wound.

I held him there at my whim, as blood spilled from between his lips. He was stunned, mouth open, eyes set on me, trying to process everything that just happened. His life probably passed before him in short glances. With minimal effort I pushed him away from me and to the ground, stealing the hook from his neck as gravity took him.

Satisfaction was short-lived.

Only Alice and a black table came between me and Jasper. His eyes peered from behind her body, and I approached cautiously, knowing he had one weapon to my two, but he was unpredictable, desperate, and I'd put nothing past him.

I had to down him, and I had to do it right then! I advanced, luring him away from Alice, and he circled, his eyes never leaving mine for a second. I had gained ground; Alice was next to me, gently swaying back and forth from the hook mounted on a beam not too far above my head. I only needed to lift the rope, which bound her feet, off the curve. I stopped her sway with the side of my hand, angling the bloody blade away from her.

How long had she been like that? How long did it take someone to die from hanging upside down? It was possible, and I'd known once, but the answer was far from reach. "Hold on," I whispered, my breaths erratic from the adrenaline.

"You're never getting outta here alive," Jasper taunted from the other side of Alice.

He stepped forward, pushing her toward me. Both hands full, I had no way of catching her to stop the swaying. The blow to my chest from her shoulder knocked me back and threw me off my balance. He came for me then, his knife held level his chest with the blade out and a tight fist in front of it. He was open, stupid and vulnerable. Only foolish men fought like that.

Finding my balance once more, I shifted my weight forward and swung the rusted hook toward him. He leaned back, dodging my false attempt, but he had done just as I wanted him to. His hands were no longer in position, they flailed when he leaned and I took my opportunity to plunge my knife into his sternum.

The resistance wasn't there as it had been with Emmett. The knife slipped in easily, and with it, my satisfaction. He wouldn't live from that wound. A lung would be punctured, but I wanted to be sure.

I retracted, and when I did he tried to force his weapon onto me once again. I dropped the hook and took his armed wrist in grasp while plunging into him once more with my knife and thrusted upward. He groaned as I gutted him, and whatever strength he held onto began to fade.

His frame fell against mine as he thumped on my back with his fist, his final battle. The knife I had held away from me fell from his hand and clanked to the ground.

I pushed him away, exhausted and shaking, feeling the cool air engulf my skin once more. He fell into a dormant heap. I slid the slick blade back into the sheath on my belt and took wide steps to Alice.

My wet, stained hands clutched her cold shoulders then grazed the back of her neck. She was still. Too still. "Alice, I've got you. Stay with me."

Expelled breath collected in front of us as I slowly lifted her head above her heart then rested her neck on my shoulder. I pushed on her hips, edging the rope to release from the hook.

"What have you done?" A husky voice questioned, filling the silence. Charlie.

I glanced over my shoulder, noting my M16 in his possession and my heart began to race once again. He clutched it with a lazy one-handed grip. Even so, if Charlie could aim the gun he could hit me or Alice. I had to get it away from him, and had no time to release Alice from her bonds. There was no choice but to leave her there a moment longer.

"Renee!" Charlie yelled toward the house. He lifted the gun between his hands, his finger over the trigger. I would meet my end by my own gun. A fate I accepted long ago. I wasn't scared to die, but I feared for Alice. What would happen to her if I wasn't here? Would Charlie continue with his sons' plan?

I started for the old man, hoping I'd make it before he fired a shot.

He squeezed the trigger, and I prepared to feel the extreme agony which married its high velocity, inhumane bullets. Nothing, except a click.

Relief.

He stepped back, eyes wide, and repeatedly squeezed the trigger. Nothing. I knew his fault. I grasped the barrel of the gun and thrust it toward his face. The handle collided with his nose. He released and fell back to the floor of the shed, blood beginning to drip from his nostrils. I hated him. I hated him for deceiving me, for tucking me under his arm after a hard day's work and telling me I did a good job. He allowed this to happen.

I positioned the gun, pushing the butt into my shoulder. "The safety was on," I said, flipping the switch.

I squeezed the trigger. Bullets began to fly from the barrel and into his torso, nearly blowing him apart.

One... two... three... four... five.

A fire spread through my shoulder and I hit the ground, unsure, confused. There was an echo across the trees toward the back of the property, and heat began to tear through me.

"Fuck," I muttered as I looked down to the pain. Liquid pulsed onto my black shirt through the new hole in my arm.

Shot. I'd been shot.

Approaching footsteps caught my attention. I peeked around the corner and was met with an explosion and a bullet hitting the door behind me. Renee. My pistol. I tucked the M16 close to me and inched away from the opening, the new pain clawing at my movements and spreading like wild fire through my chest and arm.

I groaned and huffed as I released the magazine. One bullet in the mag, and one in the chamber. Not even a full burst. I seated the magazine with a click and groaned as I pushed the butt of the gun to my shoulder. This was going to hurt.

_You have to be precise. Be sure of the kill. Your life depends on it. Alice's life depends on it. Don't fuck up._ My mantra.

A shadow crawled across the rocks and dirt, Renee's cautious form approaching close to the outer wall. I readied my finger over the trigger. Her voice, a whisper, was anger and sadness as she said Charlie's name.

"You killed them," she said gently before erupting, "You killed my family!"

I didn't respond. I knew better than to give away my position, especially when I was so vulnerable, but she knew nothing of tactics and when her shoulder and cheek came into view I had never been more sure of a kill in my entire life, even if it was a woman. I lifted the gun to my sight with all the strength I had and took aim, pushing through the pain. _Alice's life depends on it._

She was there, and when she looked to me and raised the barrel of my pistol, I gave her my last two bullets. She hit the ground, dropping the gun and ceased to move. Lowering the weapon, I took in the bodies in front of me, seeing nothing except red coating the floor of the building.

I expected the air to clear of any tension that clung to me, but it became worse. I released the dead weapon and pushed myself to crawl on my knees, and eventually get up on my feet.

"I've got you. Stay with me. Keep your eyes open. Keep breathing. Focus on me. Look at me, Al. Look at me." I repeated it all again and again, as I worked to push her head onto my shoulder once more, slowly, painfully.

I tried, at first, to lift her with my good arm by placing my hand on the small of her back and pushing upward, but I wasn't as strong as I used to be, even though it seemed Alice weighed close to nothing. Tears swelled and began to blur my vision. The fire coursed through my arm, back and chest as I raised both hands to her ribs. I squeezed my eyes closed, fighting with myself until spots of red ignited under my lids the further I pushed her upward.

The flame grew hotter, my breathing stinted until I could no longer tolerate it.

_Get her off this fucking hook! You have to! There is no other option! Suck it up and do it, goddamn pussy! Push through the pain! There is no pain! It's in your head!_

I pushed harder, forced my shoulder to bear the weight. My brow furrowed as I reached the cusp of my limit. Still pushing, a glottal cry erupted from my throat, filling up our space with my agony until the rope finally slipped off the hook.

We fell backward, collapsing to the ground, her body cushioned by my own. I hollered one last time as my back hit the ground, nearly stealing the air from my chest.

I forced myself to sit, bringing her into my lap and allowing my arm to fall onto her bare stomach. There was so much blood, so much red and gray streaking and blotting her skin. Blood poured from narrow wounds in her lower abdomen. She had been stabbed multiple times, as if she hadn't suffered enough. I pressed my hand over as many as I could to keep the blood from exiting, but it continued to trickle softly to the ground.

"Al," I whispered. Her eyes, weak and bloodshot, opened, and the corners of her mouth lifted.

A sting from my nostrils spread across my cheeks and pricked my eyes until tears formed. My friend._ How are you still alive?_

"I'm so sorry," I said, struggling to maintain composure but finding it difficult the more I stared into her eyes, once so full of life.

"I don't... blame you," she managed to whisper, her throat constricting the barely audible words.

"How could you say that? It's all my fault."

"They were gonna kill you. I heard 'em. I couldn't let that happen..."

I shushed her, bent to kiss her forehead. A tear dripped onto her skin. "You're all right now. No one's going to hurt you. I'll get you inside somehow, get you warm. I'm going to take care of you. Just... just stay with me. You'll get better, you'll see and then we'll go to Flordia where it's warm and we can start our own farm, and not have to worry about the freezing weather or people trying to hurt you. We'll be happy there, Al."

My fingertips scraped her once-smooth hair ― now matted ― over and over as I combed it back away from her eyes.

She said nothing in response, but her cheeks lifted as she smiled. Her chest sank with an exhale, dragging the smile along with it.

I waited for it to rise with an intake of breath, but there was nothing except stillness. It was a silence I never expected, never wanted. I'd fought against it since our first meeting, until my mind was my enemy, until my hands were coated in other men's blood. All so I would never have to endure the moment when life ceased to exist in her body. It was my fault. It was all my fault.

I didn't want to let her go, but she left with or without my permission and without another word.

Horrible heat crept over my face, burning my eyes and stinging my nostrils. Pain resided where my heart used to beat and I pulled her limp body into my chest, trying to ignore the fire consuming my arm. Her frozen face brushed against my neck, and I wanted nothing more than to warm her cooling skin. I'd take her injuries. I would have suffered so she didn't have to. If it were me, she would know how to care for me. "I don't know what to do," I said, perhaps hoping she'd answer me. She always knew what to do.

But that silence? I couldn't endure it.

I had survived so many things: jumping out of planes, crossing enemy lines, having a building collapse on me, but I wouldn't survive this. Not when there was nothing left for me to live for. Not when this was all my fault.

Her eyes, still open, were glossy with her last tears, but dull and hollow. No Alice. Nothing. Only the wailing throes of death as I brought her into my chest.

"I'm so sorry." I removed my hand from her stomach, stained with the remainder of her vitality. I couldn't bear to see her eyes open when they no longer served a purpose. I shook my head and reached two fingers over her lids, closing her eyes from the world.

I was left with the tormented wind, hissing through the wooden cracks overlooked by its maker and the slight jingle of small tools against their hooks. The haunted sound plunged into my thoughts, reminding me of one final thing to be taken care of before I left this place forever.

A chill traveled down my spine as another tear drop freed itself from my lid. I carefully lowered Alice to the floor then stroked her head and hair with my palm before crawling to Jasper.

I searched his old, dirty clothes one-handed. "Where is it you son of a bitch?" I growled, digging in his pockets, searching, hoping for cold metal to brush my fingertips. I pulled my tags from him and roped them over my head so they could sit on my neck. I continued to search until I found the one thing I was looking for and when cold sparked against my skin I knew what I had found.

The key.


	13. Chapter 13: The World Ends With You

_We're down to one more after this. Woot! Sorry I was unable to get to the review replies last chapter. I make no promises that I'll get to them this time either. I've started working (eww) so you know how that goes. _

_**Alby Mangroves rocks**, but you already know that. She really helped to incorporate all the elements this chapter was missing/needed. Big thanks to her!_

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><p>All the art of living lies in a fine mingling of letting go and holding on.<p>

- Henry Ellis

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><p><em><strong>. . . | . . .<strong>_

**C H A P T E R - T H I R T E E N**

_The World Ends With You_

**~. . . . -=|=- . . . .~**

A candle flickered in front of me, pushing against the blackness below the floors of the house. The cellar was cool, and stocked with rows upon rows of gleaming jars holding various fruits and vegetables of different colors. There were large bags of flour and sugar, enough to last several years, I figured, if used sparingly. Barrels were bunched in a corner, not hinting to what was contained within. There were more potatoes in small crates on the floor and a small basket of apples, which only reminded me of the events that had transpired yesterday in the same darkness.

Beyond the shelves of the underground pantry, the gray cement wall led me to the corner where Bella sat on the floor, her arms stretched over her and hands suspended in metals cuffs. Her face looked much like mine; cuts and bruises disfigured her smooth-looking skin. Her eyes were bloodshot, and I wondered, very briefly, if she was meant to endure the same fate as Alice, but it wasn't a thought I could bear.

I unlocked her, and as soon as her hands were free from the wall, she scrambled from the floor, threw her arms around me and clawed at my back, holding onto me from fear or relief, or perhaps both. Her breaths were heavy and erratic in my ear, and her body shook like a leaf against mine. She wrapped her arms around my neck and squeezed.

The bite from the bullet tore from my shoulder to my neck. I cringed and pushed away from her with a deep inhale of stagnant air as if it would keep the pain at bay. It did the exact opposite. I groaned against the swell in my chest and distanced myself further, allowing darkness to fall between us.

Shadows danced across her face. Her wet cheeks glistened in the slight candlelight and her lips shook. Her brow creased with confusion, and the pain she had never allowed me to see finally surfaced.

Only then, I didn't have the strength or desire to interpret the meaning. I turned away to ascend the stairs, the path dimly lit by the steady candlelight. Bella followed, grasping onto the back of my shirt with both hands. The light at the top of the steps had retracted, barely clinging to the wall of the staircase, but it ventured into other parts of the house. The den and hall were bathed in the rich golden rays, lighting up the belongings of the dead, and I stood there for a moment, concentrating on the room and its items as if they'd tell me stories of the past.

On a long, dusty table behind the couch, vibrant flowers filled a glass vase, but they were dirty and plastic. Next to the flowers stood two empty glass candle holders, a film of brown hid their sheen. They hadn't been dusted for a long time.

Behind the table, dark stains on the floral-patterned couch appeared to be in bloom. Dust and grime covered every surface. Even the pictures on the fireplace mantel were already beginning to disappear once more under a dirty membrane.

I saw it then, and couldn't believe my complete disregard for the smallest details that I had lived in for a week. This house wasn't looked after with care, and even though it had never been emptied, it was abandoned. What I once thought was a joyous, clean home was a lie, much like the people who had inhabited it.

Bella emerged from behind me. Her shaky breath broke the silence which would be everlasting after today. She was afraid, and I could only speculate that she feared being found out of her shackles, or perhaps she had heard the gunshots and didn't know what she would find in the light.

I knew she knew something was wrong though, when she glanced down the hall into the motherless kitchen. Her eyes were wide, scared. She moved toward the back of the house, where, out the screen-door, she'd find them. She would see what I'd done.

I tapped her shoulder once before she could step away, and when she looked to me, her eyes softened. Where were the words? What could I say? I feared her, then. Only her.

My mouth barely opened as I said, "I never wanted this."

Her lips parted, and there was anguish and tragedy, and all the weariness of a girl who had just lost everything she'd ever known. She turned and walked away, wringing her hands together in front of her as she stepped into the kitchen. She looked right then left. A second later, she disappeared behind the wall, making her way for the screen door.

_It's all my fault._

I lingered in the hall, feeling as though I were swept up in a hurricane. I walked through the living room, past the dirty couch and dusty items until I stood in front of the bay window overlooking the front yard. My forehead touched the cold, smooth glass – the one thing, it seems, that was kept immaculate. I could barely stand on my feet. I wanted to rest, to feel relief soak through my body, or to feel nothing at all.

'_Nothing'_ would involve drifting far away from the sun, from life. Not feeling the pang in my heart, or the wind against my body. '_Nothing'_was an ideal state to be in.

I tried to hold myself together, even though I was so unbelievably torn apart. My strength wavered. Outside, a calm touched every surface: the trees were still, the leaves on the ground didn't swirl and the white clouds seemed frozen in the cold air. Friendly light filtered through the white curtains, but it was deceiving. Happiness no longer existed, no matter how hard the sun tried to convince me. Time stood still in that moment, and I wished I could somehow reverse it altogether.

Or take it away.

I pushed away from the window and traced Bella's steps.

My movements were stiff, rigid in the persistent cold, but it didn't relieve the raw burn which saturated my muscles. In front of the shack doors, Bella kneeled, her hands together in her lap. That long hair of hers hung over her shoulder and caught in the breeze. I walked past her. I could see her body shivering and chest alive with rapid intakes of breath. Her hopeless, tired expression reminded me of a grieving child.

I knelt next to Alice. Her skin and parted lips already turning cold shades of gray and purple. I stroked the hair back from her forehead, knowing I wouldn't be able to carry her away from this horrible place. My shoulder throbbed with merciless pain, something I'd be unable to push through while bearing her weight.

"I'm so sorry," I whispered, kissing her forehead once more.

Air stole from my chest and I gasped at the sudden desperation I felt. Instead of her familiar scent, copper and stink filled my nose.

My eyes were hot, but the tears turned to ice as they hit my skin. My body was present and aware of every noise, every movement: the freeze of the earth under me, Bella's sobs, the birds laughing in the trees outside, but _I_ was lost in time, disbelief, anger. _Why did this happen to me? Everything I've ever loved has been lost._

Across the space, Bella's tears were identical to mine, as she stared blankly at the bodies around her. She caught me staring, but unlike a week ago, I didn't look away. I was unafraid of the punishing look she'd give in return. There was nothing to cause me to falter, but the sight of her grieving for those people pulsed through me, filling me with new anger.

Why did she care about them, these monsters?

They were her parents, but they treated her like shit, yet she still continued to mourn them, running her hand over her mother's bloody hair, like she had meant everything.

They were murderers, yet she cried for them! Had I been a idiot? Was Bella part of their scheme, and the kiss last night in the cellar was nothing more than me playing a fool in her little game? Every thought I had for her, every feeling, was a lie.

I laid my hand over Alice's covered face, saying a silent goodbye as I had no choice except to submit to my wound. I couldn't stay here. Upon my exit, I stopped behind Bella.

"Bella's really good at fishing," Jasper had said. And she shook her head. Almost as though she were embarrassed.

"Don't be so modest, you're an excellent fisher."

I didn't know what caused me to think of that first dinner, but the words repeated in my head over and over again.

I didn't see it then. I didn't look deep enough under their seemingly innocent words, but I understood, now. The truth tore into my already tortured soul until there was nothing left except hatred.

I stood where Renee Swan had fallen. The rounds had torn through her skin with such ferocity, there was barely any shoulder or chest left. My pistol lay in the dirt a few feet away, splattered in her blood. I leaned to pick it up.

Bella still cried over her mother, her hand covering her mouth as her shoulders reverberated with sobs pushing on her chest.

The weight of the icy gun in my hand as I wrapped my finger around the trigger then raised it to the back of Bella's head, stunned me with a sensation I had never felt before. Then, there was a moment of pause followed with the thought that this excellent fisher didn't deserve death. She deserved lifelong misery. Perhaps we both did for what we'd done. Our treason, adultery and lies married well. No matter how beautiful and tragic this creature of silence was, I lowered my weapon. She wouldn't win, no matter how tempting the thought.

Without a second glance, I walked away from that farm and out of Bella's life, not interested in knowing what more she could inflict upon me.

I made my way down the familiar, dormant road as I held my pistol in one hand and my heart in the other. I thought I would stumble to the ground, unable to carry myself to my everlasting rest. Ahead were the woods that would lead to the river, and beyond the river, Vicksburg. However, I wouldn't get that far.

And as I walked, I understood my father for the first time in my life. I knew why he wanted death.

Because the pain of living without her was too much to bear.

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><p>The pond water sat as still as a pane of glass, reflecting the multicolored trees and blue sky. Consistent chirps filled the forest with a joy I couldn't feel, and I imagined the birds were flitting around overhead in the sunlight. After all, their world hadn't changed. What I wouldn't give to be a bird.<p>

Traces of our camp were left behind: the small hole I'd dug for the fire, the rocks surrounding it, a clearing where the tarp had been, Alice's make-shift net she used to catch minnows. She'd left it behind in a rush to catch up to me.

I grinned, still remembering the look on her face when she showed me the fish she'd caught. It was the last place she was truly happy. That was until I dragged her away in search of a girl who wasn't even injured. Until Bella caught me in her own net.

I was a fish, she my fisherman and I hated myself. I hated her and the feeling of being lost, of having no hope. I was in a world which no longer wanted or needed me.

But I didn't have to go on anymore. I didn't have to fight or worry about food and water or shelter when it rained. I no longer had to fill my empty diet with death.

Finally, after years of wandering and fighting, I could be at peace. It was just me, and I expected nothing of myself anymore. I lowered myself next to the water and stared at the tree-lined bank across the motionless elements. My pants soaked up the moisture from the dirt and grass, freezing my skin underneath as I scraped the cold, dull barrel against my temple.

Alice had trusted me once. I wondered how often the thought that I'd come for her, that I'd save her, passed through her head while she hung upside down.

How many times did she tell herself I'd come in at any moment and find them taking her while she was pinned down?

My stomach turned.

How many times did that thought comfort her? _How many goddamn times, Edward? How many fucking times did she tell herself you'd be in there any moment to kill them and take her away from that place? You were sleeping._

When did she lose the hope she'd always kept so close to her heart?

If I hadn't been an idiot and followed Bella. If I had only seen what was truly there.

"You should've known better," I whispered.

I should've known not to trust those people, not to leave Alice alone with them. If I had only listened to her that day. That last day here in the woods.

I could still recall waking from my haze and venturing to the water. Her boldness of removing her clothes fought the innocent smiles she gave, and my thoughts left me stranded as they explored the details of her skin; it had been so dirty, but with one stroke the dirt cleared and she became pale once more.

Now, the grime was below the skin, where water couldn't reach. The bruises would never be washed away. She was no longer pale, but purple. Now, there was blood in her hair, on her skin... on me.

The last that I would ever see of her stained my hands, crusting and chipping away if I balled up my fist tight enough. It couldn't cling to me. It wasn't part of me, though I somehow wished it could have been so I could carry her with me to wherever I was going next.

I couldn't stand it. I couldn't stand sitting alone at that water, knowing her death was my doing. I screamed in revulsion, taking aim at the tree tops across the pond and fired two shots. The vibration rattled my arm and the explosions filled the space around me. Birds escaped from the branches in a black cloud and dispersed across the blue overhead, but it was all a blur.

She'd hung from that beam bloodied and hopeless. I had failed her. Any trust she had for me had faded, even after I entered those shack doors.

I inhaled with a sob, parting my lips to admit the shocking metal of the cold barrel. The roof of my mouth stung the further I pushed. I could taste the bitter soot from the gunpowder and felt the heat escape into my throat as I found the exact spot the barrel needed to be. Eyes hot and wet, I said goodbye to everything around me: the sun, the trees, the sounds of life, as I readied to squeeze the trigger. I'd thought about this moment many times before.

_Do I really want this?_

_Yes. It's easier this way. It's too late to go back. One bullet left. Finish it. You don't deserve life. You're worthless._

Rustling, fast footfall trotted through the forest behind me, and I pulled the gun from my mouth and pointed to the direction where it came; a reaction.

It was her, and when she saw me and the gun pointed at her head, she stopped. Her face was creased with worry, lips parted with heaving breaths. She'd been running. When our eyes met, I exploded with pain, not knowing I could hurt more than I already did. I blinked, and felt a tickle slide down the side of my cheek.

My lips welded together in a scowl and I tightened my grip on the gun, rising from the forest floor.

My body was heavy, ready to finally rest, but I waited for her to push me over the edge. I _was _strong enough to stand. I couldn't show my weakness. She was more than I thought her to be.

"I never thought I'd kill a woman," I said, teeth clenched as I stepped toward her. "I never even entertained the idea, let alone wanting to do it more than once in a single day, but I'm tempted."

She shuffled at my words, the lines on her face turned into confusion. Did she understand my intention? Did she see the violent thoughts slide across my face?

"So, give me one good reason not to kill you, Bella." My voice cracked as I pushed her to answer me, to speak words. "Hm? Tell me."

She said nothing!

With two strides I closed the distance between us, introducing the barrel of my gun to the pale skin of her forehead. "Cat got your tongue?"

She shook her head and her lips moved with a mumble, as if trying to find a voice within herself.

Why was she doing this? Why was she here after what she did? She betrayed me! Yesterday meant nothing to her!

"What do you want?" I screamed at her, wanting to fall to the ground in agony. "What more could you possibly want from me? Have I not given enough?"

Tears streamed from her eyes, then. "Don't," she whispered, wrapping her arms around her torso.

"Oh, don't?" The idea was laughable. "Don't? Answer me this: how long did you know about us? Were you watching, waiting for the right moment?"

She shook her head violently, panicked.

"Then why were you there?" The question echoed through the trees and across the water. My arm wavered, exhausted, but I righted it, keeping the barrel against her skin. I couldn't remember the precise moment I became so incredibly angry at her. When she didn't answer me I asked once more, "Why were you there?" I spoke slower, harsher, deeper as though it would convince her to respond.

She doubled over with a sob, dropping to the ground as though yielding. My weapon followed. Her hands disappeared in the foliage as she held herself up. Her gaze climbed the barrel of my pistol, eyes alive and glistening before tears plummeted from her bottom lid. "I didn't know you were here," she finally said with a stutter. The words barely stood above a whisper against the morning life of the forest.

Such a simple declaration should've meant nothing to me. She should've meant nothing, but that moment tore me in two. I wanted to apologize. I wanted to kill her. I wanted to hold her. I wanted her to walk away and leave me alone forever.

"Jasper was right about one thing," I said, disappointed in myself for not seeing it sooner. "You're a great fisher, Bella. I'll give you that."

She shook her head. "Please," she sobbed. "Please don't."

Aggravated, I answered, "Don't what?"

"Don't... leave me."

With jaw clenched and eyes closed, I drifted from that forest and into another time, another brief conversation. Memories invaded, but they were mere glimpses of concrete, ash and sky. It faded with time, but the apparition of weight and the feeling of being trapped still consumed me. I'd said those words before as I'd reached for an arm next to me, it's owner buried like me. _Don't leave me!_ I'd screamed through the dust settling in my lungs. _Stay with me!_

A tremor fluttered through my ears as I shook my head, and finally gave to gravity.

The cool of the dirt at my knees seeping through my clothes rivaled the burn behind my lids. A chill soaked my tired bones which not even the sun could take away.

"I have no reason to stay. My purpose died with her, and it's all your fault."

_No. She's dead because of me. It's all my fault for following. _"If you hadn't come down to the woods... if I hadn't followed you." I was so incredibly dizzy with thoughts of Bella running away from me that day, flying through like bullets. My eyes were heavy. I only wanted to rest, to stop. "You shouldn't have been here. You should have left us alone. We were fine."

"I didn't know," she repeated. "I ran. I was scared."

"And I followed, just like you planned."

"No. I didn't. It was an accident."

It couldn't have been. There was blood on her. A lure. "Then what about the blood, Bella?"

Confusion swept her face. "Blood?"

"The blood on the front of your dress when I saw you here; the dress you wore yesterday. I suppose that was an accident, too?"

She looked down, and even though there were no smears of blood on her clothes, she appeared as though she were concentrating on the stain. "It was from the bear. Jasper wiped it on me."

Her tired, brown eyes were on mine again.

"So Jasper knew, and he sent you to bait us?"

She shook her head. Her voice still faltered and she spoke slowly, but the more she said, the more steady it became. It was evident she hadn't spoken in some time by the speed which she relayed her words, but it was indiscernible how long she'd been silent. "No. I came to get water. I don't know what he knew. I never heard him say anything about people here. I hated him, never wanted to be around him more than I had to."

The gun had grown increasingly limp between my fingers. Tears fell, and my breaths were erratic between each word I spoke. "You expect me to believe our meeting was by chance? Do you think I really believe that?"

But, I didn't know what to believe. Perhaps she was telling the truth, or maybe her lure was her innocence. Her brow creased and she rubbed her palms against her legs. The specks of dirt that clung to her skin smeared onto her faded jeans in stains of brown and black, and she sat upright, tucking her legs underneath her, away from me, but she never shied from my harsh gaze.

Once again, like the first time I introduced myself, I couldn't read Bella Swan. All at once she took on the form of a frightened child, yet a strong woman. I felt sorry for her, but then had no pity. My confusion waned and my resolve settled. Either way, she would live. I was done taking life. The only exception was my own.

I found strength in my legs and stood, sheathing the gun at my side. I'd wait until she was gone to use it for the final time. "Go home, Bella. Go home where it's safe."

She sniffled. "Home? Safe? I can't go home."

"Well, you can't stay here."

"What about you?"

"What about me?"

"Wh―what will you do?"

"There's nothing left for me here," I said, and turned away from her as she lifted herself from the ground, wiping away her tears.

I didn't expect her touch, but it was there on my uninjured shoulder, willing me to look at her, to meet her halfway as she stepped around me. "I'm here," she whispered. "You have me."

The morning unexpectedly burned my eyes, bringing my heavy lids down to shut the world away. The dark descended on me, and we were in the cellar once more. "We had a moment." _And she saw us._"A moment I will never forgive myself for. That's all."

I moved away from her. I wished she would leave. "I can't go back to that house," I said, speaking louder so she could hear me as I distanced myself. "They killed my family."

"And you killed mine," she said with a harsh clarity

I stopped. Turned.

Her furious eyes were full of welling tears, and her hands were balled into fists. Hatred, anger and sadness lingered on every word she said. She spoke louder, but she continued to trip over her words, as though they were the last things holding her to the Earth. "And you want to die, now? Then you leave me here to die, too? What if I don't choose that? What if I want to live?"

"You'll live."

"For how long? How long until people take my house? How long will they allow me to live? It's almost happened before. It'll happen again!"

"I can't do it anymore! I'm tired! Don't you understand how long I've been running? Fighting? Starving? I want it to be over!" I was in her face once more, screaming my protests. Maybe I should've shot her and got it over with.

"You're not the only one who's been fighting! I've fought every day since Jasper arrived! Every day! He turned my mother against me! Told her he'd take care of her and my dad when they got older if he could stay. Then told her lies about me and my father!" A fierce shiver shook her body, as though extinguishing her words.

"You and your father?" I asked. It was a sick curiosity.

She stepped toward me again, wringing her hands in front of her. She was gentle once more as she said, "They weren't true. You must believe me." She began to roll the hem of my shirt between her fingers, like she'd done before in the cellar.

I gathered the material back from her grasp and took a step back. "Why would she believe him? Didn't Charlie speak up?"

Her eyes lowered and she shook her head. "He said it wasn't true, but she said she knew why he did it. I was young and pretty... " I imagined she wanted to push the memory far from her mind, but it clung to her. "She forgave him, but not me. Said God wasn't forgiving to the Devil's whores."

The Devil's whore? I had thought I imagined the looks Renee would give to Bella when Charlie drew near to her. I had never seen him touch her affectionately, other than when we had first arrived, far from Renee's sight. Did she really believe her daughter, her own flesh and blood, seduced her husband? It was disgusting, but it explained Renee's curious behavior toward Bella.

"She believed Jasper," I murmured. "Over you."

"Because she loved him more than me. She always wanted a son, not me. She told me that everyday." She paused, taking in a breath. "I just wanted her to be proud of me for something."

She'd never get that chance.

"And Charlie?"

"I don't know how he felt," she said. "There were moments when I thought he loved me, but... " It was more than the wind that caused Bella to hug herself, to shield her body from the world in that moment. "But there were other times... at night... when he ignored my screams while Jasper..."

Her throat closed around her words. I could only speculate what memories emerged from the back of her mind. I didn't ask her to explain. I knew what she was trying to convey. Rape.

I straightened my back. I'd long forgotten about the fire that burned my shoulder, eager to will it away, but pain never strays too far, especially when the cause is a bullet.

I simply stated, "You seemed to have stopped fighting, Bella. You stopped fighting when you failed to mention your family ate people."

"My silence kept me safe when nothing else did. It's how I survived."

Moments passed as my time with her circled my head, knowing her words held truth. She was beaten, soiled, frightened and I knew I hadn't imagined _that_.

"But I'm tired of surviving," I finally said with a sigh, not forgetting her reason for finding me and keeping me from the ending I wanted. "I have no reason to carry on."

"I can be your reason."

"You simply cannot replace one person's life for another. Not in my world."

"I don't want to replace anybody. I could never be Alice!"

"Then what is it that you want from me? What do you expect? You want me to protect you? Help around the farm? Carry on like none of this ever happened and live happily ever after? I felt sorry for you, Bella. I felt sorry for you because I thought you were being taken advantage of because you couldn't speak.

"And now, after all that's happened, you've got a lot to say? How can I trust you when you've done nothing but mislead me?"

"I never had a choice! I've been scared of them, of you, but that's changed. I'm not afraid of you anymore. You're different. I thought you knew that yesterday."

"I'm not different," I said, recalling the darker edges of my past, when life and death was a strategy, not a thought. "I've killed more men than I care to count. I've killed men because someone I never even met told me to." I smiled, but it wasn't from humor. It was disgust and tragedy. "I'm not different."

"You are," she pleaded. "The way Alice spoke of you"―my heart leapt at her name―"while she helped my mom. She said you were always trying to protect her, always putting her before yourself. Nobody's like that anymore."

"You're right," I shrugged, noting my selfishness, "they're not."

"You would leave me to the world?"

Would I leave her to the world? Just this morning I had wanted to take her with me, to protect her from everything, _everyone_. And now, I'd leave her vulnerable, knowing she'd be found by opportunists and taken as spoils? They'd hurt her, or kill her. _And I would just leave her to the world?_" I just... don't see how this would work between us."

"Can't you at least try? Stay for a while, and if it's not working out then you can leave. I'll answer all your questions. Tell you everything. Please, Edward," she pleaded. "Please don't leave me."

No, I couldn't leave her. I was responsible for her endangerment this time. I had killed the only protection she had: her family, no matter how crazy they were. If I left―if I died―she would die, and my heart wouldn't allow that guilt to pass through with ease, not when I felt something for that girl during our time together; not when the taste of her lips still lingered on my mind. Goddammit. I'd never find the peace I so anxiously wanted, but perhaps I wasn't meant to feel peace.

Maybe warriors do not feel the things that the people they protect feel. It's not in our cards, but I knew I'd continue to suffer so she would never have to again. That was my purpose.

I met her dark gaze once more, collecting the despair she felt as she waited for my response.

I felt the Earth shift and come to life as though shaking off the falling winter. A warmth fingered its way across my skin as I huffed a small sigh, lifting the corner of my mouth to give her the slightest smile.

Maybe the world, and this woman, still had use for me after all.

* * *

><p><strong><em>I Wonder As I Wande<em>r by David Nevue**


	14. Chapter 14: For The Love of A Princess

Well, the end is here. Thank you so much for reading, encouraging and being patient with me while I work through this story.  
>Big hugs to Alby Mangroves for going above and beyond for me. She's magical. Any mistakes are my own since I added after she finished looking over everything.<p>

[My next projects will be the continuation of House of the Horde and the short sequel to Lions Eat Lambs.]

I hope you enjoy this last chapter, and again, thank you!

* * *

><p><strong>CHAPTER FOURTEEN<strong>  
><em>For The Love of A Princess<em>

_**~. . . . -=|=- . . . .~**_

When her eyes are closed and she's quiet, she doesn't look real. Her smooth skin and curly, auburn hair are only disturbed by the flickering from the oil lamp. She resembles a porcelain doll, more than a little girl. A porcelain doll holding a less desirable doll so one could compare their beauty. There's no comparison. I stroke her hand, then kiss her forehead. She's undisturbed.

I love her, but I can't help thinking of Alice's notion of having children. She was a romantic, a fool. I can't change the world May's growing up in. I have no hope for her small generation. I have no hope for her here, at the farm, but it's pointless to abandon it now, like it was pointless to abandon it so long ago. We had everything we needed here, everything we needed to live.

On the road we would have nothing except hunger and the cold. There's death out there. There's death in here. It's starting to not matter where we are. We're idle as we wait for death.

My eyes burn from the narrow light, and as I close the door to her room, stepping into the hallway, I know I should rest. It's been a long day, and I'm tired.

Surely, Bella's asleep by now. I glance into the partially open door of our bedroom, looking for a candle's subtle glow, but find darkness and stink of an extinguished flame in its place. I should walk into this room. I should. It's what I need. There is a layer of sweat, and another layer of dirt clinging to my skin: an honest day's work waiting to be wiped away. The same, comfortable routine I fall into each night will take place if I walk in this room. Wash, climb into bed, listen to the creaks of the floor above, sleep, wake, dress, work, eat, work, wash, and sleep – a carbon copy of the day already passed.

Tonight, there's no comfort, no peace, no desire to lie next to her and pretend to sleep while my mind runs rampant with thoughts emerging from my past. There's only _her,_calling me between the dark and the moonlight.

I stacked the rocks high in front of the pond. That image.

I back away from the door. I should check the locks, just to be safe.

Downstairs, the air is warmer, less stagnant than the claustrophobic bedrooms. For the second time tonight, I check the locks at the front and back door, then glance at the window locks in the living room, dining room, study and kitchen. They're all in place.

I guzzle a glass of water before snagging an apple from a bowl on the counter and pulling a chair close to the large hearth. Even though the fire has died, the embers are enough to draw sweat, but I welcome the warmth.

It'd been a cold, long winter. I'm ready for the miserable heat. I'm ready for the hot nights without blankets, the wanted cold of the water which sat too long in the basin so we can wash with it. It's been too cold for too long.

Using the iron poker, I sift through the embers and ash, revealing the hot spots underneath. A small flame begins to flicker against the charred wood. It's hesitant to grow larger, but still, I watch and wait while minutes begin to reverse.

The silence grew the more we moved against it. The longer we moved past each other without speaking, the more it resolved my decision to leave her.

I often asked myself how I could stay there. How could I breathe that musty air? How could I eat in the dining room, or sleep in their beds? How could I carry on without thinking of Alice, of what transpired behind my back and in front of my eyes? All these questions without answers.

Those emotions caged me in darkness, left me feeling hopeless. I was a betrayer, murderer, liar. Death and selfishness moved me forward. Fear left me in agony.

Fear of what? What was I so afraid of when I had nothing more to lose after entering that house once more? I'd already lost everything. Yet, when she touched me I shuddered. She wanted to help, wanted to pull the bullet from my shoulder.

My palm rests over the old wound, and while I can still feel pressure around the scar, the touch is dead.

She sterilized needle-nose pliers in hot water, allowed them to cool, then with my careful direction began to pry into my tender flesh while I lay on the oval table in front of the burning hearth.

It isn't a feeling one forgets. It's an old memory, but fresh. My eyes close and my brow furrows.

I mumbled obscenities while she dug and prodded, searching for the small piece of metal wedged between tissue. Her eyes were intense, focused, and I concentrated on them. They kept me grounded and sane, kept me from flying off the table. "God," I breathed out, as if he would answer someone like me. My eyes watered.

Her diligent eyes found me then, leaving her task to search my expression. Her voice small, she said, "I'm sorry," before returning back to my wound.

After the extraction, and with my instruction, she cleaned the wound. It was our only communication for hours that afternoon. Still, I wanted to walk out the front door and never look back. But, as I sat in front of the fireplace and watched her prepare fresh water and move around the kitchen, I began to imagine her by herself. It wasn't hard to see her life alone and how simple it would be for her to become prey for a passer-by desperate for food or water.

Her eyes would land on mine, and every time the same thought became stronger: I know this girl.

I _know_ this girl. She wasn't someone I simply passed on the street. I spent time with her, knew things about her other people in this world didn't. I was, perhaps, the only person left to know her name. And yesterday, she kissed me as though I would fall apart if she pressed too hard. _That_ is what I couldn't forget, _that_I couldn't force away even though the pain from my shoulder had become aggravated once more from digging the bullet out.

"We can't leave them out there," she said, her voice was soft and broken as she leaned against the door frame, her arms crossed in front of her. "Coyotes will make off with them."

I looked up from where I sat at the kitchen table with a blood-soaked cloth to my shoulder. The glow from the last remaining daylight was on her. "What do you suggest we do?"

I could see the ideas passing through her mind as clearly as the light touching her face. She turned to me after an extended silence and garnered her solution.

I recall the weight of those four bodies, and sometimes seconds exist, mere seconds, when I can feel the heat trace my shoulder like the bullet and wound were fresh. It feels like it once did, the slight tingle buzzing through my bones. The pain is brief, but it reminds me, regardless of its span, how I got here.

I rub my fingertips against it through my clothes. The scar tissue is numb.

I glance to the corner of the kitchen, the back door locked and in place, then glance to the fireplace. It's not truly ablaze, only flickering among the orange embers. I stack three hefty logs onto the cast iron grate, then poke the flames awake. They catch and burn. The wood screams under the intense heat, then pops and hisses as it settles.

And I was in front of that roaring fire once more, watching the tree line for the eyes of animals who would smell the burning flesh drifting on the wind. She was on the other side, and tossed another small piece of wood onto the high flames. Tears hung on her lower lids, causing her eyes to shimmer in the orange glow.

I caught those tear-filled eyes, and I could feel mine begin to prime as well. "I'm sorry," I said over the crackle between us.

She didn't move, just stared for a long moment before her lips parted and a tear ran down her cheek. "I'm sorry," she repeated.

An understanding had settled between us, a familiar emotion we both possessed while her family turned into ash. "We'll have to keep it going all night," I said. "So there isn't anything left. If there is... " _Coyotes. Scavengers._

She nodded. There was no need to finish my sentence. She understood.

"There's no telling what else they'll try to get into." I eyed the barn. Even though the doors were locked, Charlie told stories of animals getting into the shack to steal food. The type of meat wouldn't matter to them. Even if it was dead.

"I can't bring myself to burn her."

I have almost forgotten what it's like to feel the pain exploding inside my chest. I try to forget. I try to keep the past from shouldering my present, but this fire and May's bedtime story have resurrected everything I hate about myself.

I take up the iron poker and continue to shuffle the embers, watching them grow brighter each time they are touched. I should go upstairs. I should be in bed. I should be sleeping. I don't know how long I've sat here. I don't know how much longer I can. My back is beginning to tingle, the old man inside my body wanting the younger man to climb the stairs to lay down so he can rest, but to lay in that room would be more harsh than a wooden chair.

There are too many memories, now. Too many details I remember, too many thoughts which will pass in that room. So, I'm idle in this chair, in front of a small fire, fighting emotions from six winters ago still clinging to my ribs with such ferocity it's making me sick. I sigh, taking another bite of apple before dropping the remainder on the table behind me. I place the iron poker against the stones, and resolve to leave the kitchen with nothing more than an old man on my back, soot on my fingers and a candle in my hand.

I won't find sleep or rest. Not until I settle this.

Once more, I turn the knob on the lamp, bringing the small flame to life. It guides me to the second floor. I'm quiet as I move up the stairs, into the bedroom where I begin to search for the small white cloth in my sock drawer. I haven't touched it since before May was born, but it's here, in my hand. The familiar weight of such a small thing tugging inside my chest, weighing me down and seizing my breath.

How could a bedtime story do this to me?

I stuff the white, handkerchief-wrapped thing into my pocket then leave the room with the oil lamp in hand.

I linger at the back door, hanging from the sanctity of the warm house and into the cool night air. The restless dark echoes through the trees – a whippoorwill call, followed by chirps of crickets and frogs. A breeze blows across my face, the fresh scent of nature engulfing me. Basil. There's always basil in the air from the corner of the garden.

I step down and still, staring straight ahead. My breaths are shallow, quiet as I search for movement in my peripherals. Nothing. I lock the door behind me, shove the key in my pocket and begin to walk away from the house. My steps aren't slow, but they aren't fast. My heart is pounding, and I'm not sure I should be walking away.

I'm an idiot for this. This isn't a good idea. Bella will wake up. She'll look for me downstairs, and when I'm not there, then what? Will she leave and look for me? No. She wouldn't leave May alone. She'll trust me to be back. Walkers haven't been by all winter. One night wouldn't be any different. They'll be fine without me for a while.

Surprisingly, I remember the lot, though the site is barely visible under the dead leaves and brush grown up around her. The moon ripples across the low water, the leaves rustling overhead as I stop in front of her. Everything changed here. It's wild, overwrought with weeds, as though nothing has stepped foot on this ground in ages. The air is moist and foul. I can almost taste rotting eggs.

Through the unrestrained tangle of green and brown, is the pile of rocks I erected over her. Their height is odd in this landscape, not a natural formation. Anyone would know what it is upon seeing it – a tomb.

I set the lantern down and begin to brush away the fallen leaves. Soon, it's how it was the day I left it so many years ago, the day I buried her. I stand now where I stood then, at the foot of her grave, looking down at the rocks. Some have toppled from the pile.

Darkness sinks into the trees. Back then, the sun was beginning to set, shrouding the forest in orange as if the sky had caught on fire. The heavy pile gave me comfort, then. She was safe under it. Now, it's tormenting. She's died all over again.

"I haven't been here in so long," I begin, shaking my head and knowing I'm ridiculous, "even though I said I'd visit every day." My chest tightens and I scratch the back of my neck, thinking of what else to say. What can I say to someone who isn't listening? Anything, I suppose. "I wasn't a good friend to you. If I was then none of this would've happened. I would've kept my eyes on you that night, not've been selfish like I was by staying up in that room."

My skin rises at those words.

"Even now, you deserve better than me. I abandoned you, but I've never forgotten. I dunno, I... I can't forget when I re-live the past every single day in that house; in the kitchen, on the stairs, in the barn, the shack, the garden, Bella."

I swallow. "You don't know how may times I thought of leaving her in the middle of the night, even when she was pregnant. I couldn't stand the thought of her giving birth. It made me sick to think of bringing a child into this world, or her dying or the baby dying." I shake my head. The thought turns my stomach: May, dead. "Am I a bad person for this?

"I never told you, but I almost did it to you, thinking you'd be better off without me, but I couldn't. You've held me here. Even after this," I gesture to the ground, "it's been you."

A warm tear runs down my cheek. "And it's funny because I never came to see you again. I kept telling myself to do it, but I'd make an excuse and say I'd go the next day, and then the day after that, then the day after that. You became an unbearable thought. What does that say about me, that I remembered, but refused to come back here? But, I told May a bedtime story about a knight and a princess. They lost their kingdom and went in search for a new one. It reminded me of us, and I told her everything I could remember about our life together." I smile. "You would love her, Al. She's the most beautiful thing I've ever seen. I get why you wanted kids.

"I was afraid when Bella told me she was pregnant, had nightmares. If she died, I would've been alone and not've known how to care for a baby. We probably would've starved." I take a breath, stabilizing my own thoughts from sinking further into the dark. "Bella's fine, though. She's healthy, May's healthy, and I'm healthy. We're a family. We're survivors. Bella teaches me, and I teach her."

Bella, the same girl who didn't tell us about her family.

No. I can't think of that. "I've forgiven her. She did what she had to do to stay alive, and so did I." We both did what we knew, and we're still here today. She played a game of silence, and I played chess in the dark. Her silence, my silence, they were the same. I hid who I was, and so did she.

I brush a palm over my face. I'm exhausted and ready to wash the day off my skin. "I just wanted to come and talk to you. I know you said you didn't blame me for what happened. I did, and part of me still does, but I don't want to feel that way anymore. I'm tired of living in the past. It's killing me slowly, every single day. I brought you something, hoping it will help. I don't need it anymore. I'd rather it be with you than in my sock drawer."

Inside my pocket, my fingers brush against the cloth. I pull it out, peaking at the contents protected inside. The metal, once clean and steel-like, appears rusty. I run a thumb over the impression. All the information is still there. I don't need the light to recognize each line.

CULLEN  
>EDWARD A.<br>896121118  
>O POS<br>NO PREFERENCE

And still, in the corner, scratched into the surface by one of my friends from my same company, is 'Red'.

It's rough, oxidized after I threw my tags into the pasture, never wanting to see them again. The following summer, Bella found them and wrapped them in the handkerchief.

"It's sorta-like a going away gift, I guess," I say, digging my nails into the cool dirt next to the rocks. I wrap the tags once more and place the handkerchief into the hole. "I can't be reminded anymore." I pat the dirt so it's firm, like a hole had never been dug.

"You deserved better than me," I say as I gather my still-burning lantern, and with its weight I feel a burden lift from my shoulders and chest. "I'm sorry."

With a sigh, I turn away from Alice for the last time. My heart begins to ache less. I have forgiven Bella for her wrong-doings, like I hope she has forgiven me for mine, but I've never had a chance to forgive myself, afraid the monster I was so long ago still lingered in my bones. He still might.

Inside the house, the warmth greets me. I drink several cups of water to soothe the dryness in my throat before carrying myself up the stairs. May is still asleep, and Bella stirs when I walk into the bedroom and begin to undress. The basin water is cool, but it's a welcome relief to the gritty film on my skin. I catch my darkened reflection in the mirror, as I do every night in this routine, noting the way my face has changed slightly since first arriving here. My eyes appear sunken, the result of many sleepless nights. Lines in the corners of my eyes are a testament to how old I really am. I pull at them with a finger to smooth them out.

My hair has patches of gray. Those lines around my mouth weren't there before May was born. I've slowly watched myself decay.

"You're not as young as you used to be," Bella says, her voice a quiet break from the silence. I see her reflection, her pretty face staring at me from our bed. Even in the faint moonlight, I can see a grin gracing her lips. "No matter how many times you look it's not going to change."

"I keep hoping it will," I say, dipping the rag back into the basin then wring it to wipe my feet. "At this rate, I'll be an old man in no time."

My skin is still damp as I move through the room to search for a pair of boxers in the chest of drawers.

"You're already an old man. What took you so long? I waited up for you, but I couldn't wait any longer."

I turn off the flame in the lamp and climb into bed, turning to face her. "May was adamant about a bedtime story."

Bella tucks her hand underneath her pillow then smiles; her face is all the focus I need to adjust to the lack of darkness. "What did you tell her?"

"Something about a knight and a princess."

"I bet she loved it."

"She fell asleep in the middle of it. I think it bored her."

She chuckles. "I'm sure was great."

The cool room turns to embers and with a swing of my leg, the blankets are off me. "It reminded me of us, _before_." There's the word I hate to emphasize because we both know what it means. Something so meaningless can change the demeanor of her and me, of the room. It makes her withdraw, and I regret it.

"No, it's not what you think," I'm quick to respond, trailing a finger down her arm, but she retracts further and turns her back to me. It _is_what she thinks, but I can't tell her. "Bella," I plead, "what do you want me to say? I can't help what reminds me of us."

"You hate me."

Not this again. "Why do you think I _hate_you? Because I'm reminded of something? I'm not blaming you."

"Goodnight, Edward."

"You can't tell me you don't think of the past."

She's silent for a moment then looks over her shoulder, "I try not to."

"But you can't help it?"

She shakes her head.

"I can't either, and I'm tired of it. I want some peace."

"What are you trying to say?"

"I want to tell you what I did, what took me so long to come to bed wasn't just because of May's bedtime story. I went to see _her_."

She's still.

"I'm feeling better tonight, better than I've felt in a long time. To be honest with you, I've never been okay. I've never felt good until now. I've always felt... guilty."

"I know," she says, still turned away from me.

"You and May deserve better, and I'm sorry for not being completely here all these years." She says nothing as I trace the line of her arm with my fingers. "What do you think of?" This is something we've never discussed beyond what we've needed to.

"On good days, I wish my mom could see May, my dad, too. Then, sometimes I think of him."

_Him. _"What about him? What reminds you of him?"

"This room, the footsteps upstairs, you."

I'm leaning on my elbow, my heart beginning to pick up the pace. "Me? I remind you of him? How? Bella, tell me." I grip onto her arm, wanting her to turn and face me. She doesn't, so I scoot closer to her and swing an arm around her waist to pull her to me. Her skin is cool on my chest, and even though she's resisting by trying to pull away, she doesn't fight me off. I loosen my grip around her slightly, not wanting to feel as though I'm trapping her. Our movements, as always, are a careful dance of push and pull.

My lips are against her ear, her soft hair tickling my face. "How do I remind you of him?" I whisper.

"When we... and you're rough."

The first night, after months of looks and passes in the hallway, I'd dissolved and lifted her against the wall, fed up with the restraint I had upon myself for longer than I cared to recall. I needed to feel warmth surround me, needed to be inside her. She rocked into me, then, the last brick of her wall crumbled at our feet, melted by sweat.

In this room one night, I moved toward her selfishly. Her tongue still tasted of the sweet strawberries from dinner as I pushed her hair away from our lips. Her breath hot on my face, I pushed myself onto her, holding her hands in mine, pinning her against the bed. All those times, I was never as careful as I should've been. "I would never do that. I'd never hurt you."

I press her body to mine, holding her back to my chest. I wonder if she doesn't think about _him_when I'm touching her like this. Do her memories lie here, in this touch?

She flinches.

"Don't you trust me?" I ask.

Panic is evident in the rise and fall of her chest as she turns to face me. "There are some things I want to forget, but can't. When you touch me like that, it's him. I try to tell myself it's you. My mind thinks differently."

"It can't be helped," I say, brushing her cheek. "I should've known better. I didn't think about how it could affect you."

She shakes her head. "I know you'd never hurt me, Edward, and I'm sorry. "

I scoot closer, our chests pressed together in this new position. Her eyes glint in the small light. "This okay?" I ask. My nose glides against hers before our lips meet. Our kiss is only a moment, it's soft, but ignites the passion burning through me. I pull away, but she finds her way back. Her mouth is on mine once more. A push, a pull.

"I'll be gentle," I whisper against her. "I'll be gentle." I embrace her top lip, seeking permission. My palm cups her shoulder, her fingers glide across the stubble on my chin.

I kiss her again, my hand sliding to her waist, my hips finding hers as I explore her gown beneath the sheets. I hate this thing. It's too long. I can't find her skin quick enough.

Knee. Thigh. Hip. The feel of her on my hands. Warm and ache. There is nothing else in this room, now. The shadows and the moonlight disappear. The walls fall away and there is nothing else I want more. She drives me crazy. The thought of being inside her, feeling her around me has me mesmerized.

Slowly. Go slowly.

A rattle across the room distracts me. May is standing in the doorway, she lingers for a moment before stepping in, holding her doll to her chest. She's next to our bed, sliding into the moonlight. Her eyes are droopy, her face expressionless, her voice soft. "Daddy, that man is in my room again."

_That man_. These words frighten me. My memories aren't the only ghosts in the house unable to find rest. I move from the bed, tucking my erection between the elastic of my boxers in a swift motion.

"Come on," Bella says, as May crawls over her. She kisses the top of her head. "Do you want to sleep in here tonight?"

From the hall, I hear May's little response, "Yes," and with it, my plans go out the door. I rub my face with my palms.

My steps are slow, unlike my heart which feels like it's in my neck, waiting to sink back into my chest. I don't know what I'll see in this hall or in her room. The hairs on my arm stand on end as I push her door open a little farther.

It's darker than it was earlier, the moonlight no longer favoring her window. Nevertheless her room is normal, no figures or dark shadows floating in the corner. I step further in, etching my way across the old floor, daring myself to whisper into the dark.

"What do you want?" I ask softly. "Why do you keep scaring her?"

For a moment, I expect a response, but I know this is ridiculous. Whatever resides here has never spoken to me, but I know it's there, watching out the highest windows of the house, seeing what I can't.

I push the curtains until they can't be moved further along the rod, hoping to reel in more light. From her window, I can see the white picket fence around the property, pushed to the gravel stretching parallel to the house. The moonlight is soft, touching each surface with a gentle glow. In the distance, the woods are nothing more than shadow.

My forehead rests against the cool pane, my reflection much like a ghost, itself. I was in those woods earlier, hoping to settle my mind. It'll take time, but I'm starting to feel the ease on my thoughts. I feel my heartbeat everywhere at once as a tall, slender shape begins to form, floating along the dirt and gravel. It's familiar, intriguing. Is there any possibility I'm dreaming? Have I caught myself in the middle of a fantasy? No. I'm not sleepwalking. I remember how I got here. A glance to May's bed confirms it. It's empty. She's in my room, lying under my sheets with Bella's arms around her.

No. I couldn't be dreaming. I know of every sensation around me: the cold breeze coming through  
>the cracks between the frame and the window; the dread, the excitement spreading across my skin,<br>raising the hairs on my arms; the feel of the glass against my fingertips. I watch the shadow advance with curiosity. The shape is familiar, yet I can't make out any of its features. It's a shadow of the past haunting me. It's _her_. Is she real? Could she be...

No. No, Edward. She's not. She's dead, remember? Her heart stopped. She was blue and purple. Dead. She's dead. You saw the grave.

But, why am I seeing her now?

My cheek is pressed to the cool window, my fingertips against the glass as though the answers would be whispered to me. My breath fogs the pane and I wipe it away with anxious speed, pressing my forehead against it once more. I fill my lungs and hold my breath and the swell of hope, grinding in my chest, is almost painful. There's no room for any air with all the emotion locked inside.

The shape advances. Small details begin to emerge. Hair, shoulders, torso, arms.

My once-seized breath fogs the glass again with the declaration, "Alice."

I'm away from the window. Out of the room and down the stairs with such speed that I've barely known what I've done by the time I'm unlocking then pulling the front door open. The night air whips around me with ferocity. I step off the front porch, my nerves knotting in my stomach as I search down the road.

Nothing.

"Hello?" I call out. "Anybody there?"

The only response is the wind rattling the oak branches above my head. It's quiet out here, otherwise.

I turn and look to May's window, and I remember what it was like moments earlier, watching the figure glide down toward the house. My gaze turns back to the dusty road, the field of tall grass on the opposite side swaying gently. Could I imagine such an apparition?

I breathe in deeply, wanting to slow my quick heartbeat. There's a noise now; the animals in the barn alerted to something. Has this night been unsettling to them as well? Perhaps I didn't imagine what I saw.

Around the corner of the house, I can see the barn. The worn tin body reflects little light, but it's enough to make out an indistinguishable figure at its doors. Someone, or something is there. No. _Someone_. A man with a backpack is pushing the barn doors open. I'm not imagining this.

I have nothing to defend myself with, but I'm not without means. I watch him, peeking around the corner of the house until he disappears into the dark opening. I'd imagine he won't stay in there long. He can't see anything. He'll come out soon, looking for something he can take. I'm quick, but silent, on my feet and I'm at the side of the barn within seconds of leaving the corner of the house.

Should I call out to him, let him know I know he's there? But, what if he's armed? I can't misstep. If I do, it's death. There's rustling inside, careful footsteps and the sound of Sam snorting. That horse never took kindly to strangers. Is the man trying to steal him?

"I know you're in there," I say. "I've got a gun, and I will shoot you if you don't come out right now with your hands in front of you."

"I mean no harm." I was right – a man. His voice isn't deep or threatening. In fact, it sounds youthful, innocent.

"Come out, now!"

"Okay, okay. Please don't shoot."

I stand against the side of the barn, watching the door, waiting for a figure to emerge from the darkness. Finally, hands appear, fingers splayed. Arms, chest, shoulders, face. He's young and dark-skinned, like he's stayed in the sun for days at a time without burning. His straight, long, black hair is pulled away from his face. The full moon reveals his fear, and in that moment I find a little of myself in him, and I wonder if he can see the fear in my eyes, too.

Even in the dark I can see his clothes are torn and dirty. His jeans have holes, and the exposed white shirt, under his dirty jacket, is ripped in several places.

"What are you doing here?" I ask, inching away from the tin wall I'm against.

He looks over me. "You don't have a gun," he says and puts his hands down, relaxing.

"I didn't say it was on me. It's inside; easy to get to if you don't answer my question."

"I'm just looking for a place to stay for the night."

"Why are you so far from the highway?" I ask.

"I was told to come here. A woman said there was food and shelter."

"This woman told you wrong. There's nothing here for thieves."

"I'm not a thief! I'm an honest man!"

"An honest man doesn't take. He gives. You were clearly looking to take."

His eyes flutter over me once more as his lips part. His chest rises and falls. He's nervous. "Are you an honest man, sir?"

I step toward him, suddenly losing all fear of this boy. "I'm a killing man, who will slit the throat of anybody trying to take from my family."

He moves away from me. "Look, I don't want any trouble. I'm not looking to steal. I just want a place to sleep for one night, maybe some water and food. I can give you something in return." He begins to take off his back pack and unzips it.

"Don't reach in there," I say, knowing he could be searching for a weapon.

"No, it's just this." He reaches anyway, a stupid move on his part. Does he know nothing about self-preservation? Do I, because I don't stop him? He pulls out a tall, slim drawstring bag.

My curiosity piques. What could he have to offer in exchange for food, water and a bed? Is that? No. It can't be.

He slips the bag down over the glass bottle. I recognize the blue wrapping around the neck instantly. "Vodka?"

He nods. "Barely used," he says while handing it to me, and it's the truth. The bottle is full. I twist it open and put my nose to the mouth, taking a deep inhale of the pungent liquid inside. Vodka.

"How much are you willing to part with in exchange for food, water and shelter?" I smell it again and I'm reminded of my life before the war; bars, late nights, fried food, hangovers. I grin.

"How much would be worth your while?"

I'm thoughtful for a moment. "Two cups?"

He nods. "I can do that."

I twist the cap on. "You've got yourself a deal. I must warn you, though, I don't allow weapons – other than my own – inside my house. If you have a knife or gun, leave it out here."

"I have a pocket knife, sir." He retrieves it from his pocket and hands it to me. "I told you, I don't mean any harm. You're free to look in my bag."

I turn the knife over in my hand. It's old, but still in good condition. "This is all you have?" I ask as he shrugs his pack on his shoulders. "It's dangerous out there, and you have _this_as your protection?"

"It was my dad's. It's all we had, and I'm not going to kill to get something better. I stay out of people's way, mind my own business. I've learned to become invisible, survive."

"And where's your dad now?"

"He died just this winter. Went in his sleep."

Poor kid. "I'm sorry to hear that," I say.

He shrugs it off, keeping his tone about him. "Don't be. I'm not. It probably sounds bad, me saying that. I miss him, but he's in a better place, not freezing to death or going hungry. I'm glad I don't have to see him suffer anymore. He was old."

"No, I understand what you're saying." I can feel my body finally begin to relax as I lead him toward the front of the house. At the front door, I ask. "What's your name?"

"Jacob Black, sir." He offers his hand, and I take it, giving him a firm shake.

"I'm Edward Cullen."

He marvels at the large hearth in the kitchen as I pour him fresh water into a pitcher. From the laundry room, I grab a ceramic basin and wash cloth then add it to a wooden tray along with the pitcher. We have deer jerky in a container on the counter. I hand him a strip and put five more on the tray. He begins to eat it right away.

I measure out two cups of vodka and store it in a glass container on the shelf. "Thank you," I say, handing him back the bottle.

"You're welcome," he says, jerky between his teeth as he pushes the Gray Goose back into his bag.

"Here, you carry this." I hand him the tray. "Let me get some candles and I'll show you to your room."

We'd only offered a room to one other person before, an older woman looking to stay for shelter for a few days, but only ended up staying half a night, leaving before the sun rose. Holding a single candle in front of me, I lead Jacob up the stairs to the third floor. Usually, there's no reason to venture to this part of the house. It's always the same feelings up here, like something is chasing me. I'm scared of what I'll see in the corner of my eye, but I don't want Jacob on the second floor with Bella, May and me.

"We never use this part of the house," I explain as we reach the third landing. "So, excuse the dust. This is your room here." I open the first door on the right. "Make yourself at home." I set the candle and holder along with the spares on the nightstand.

"Thank you, sir."

I nod, stepping back into the hall. "My family and I are on the second floor if you need anything. I should warn you that I'm very protective over my wife and daughter. If you should so much as look at them in a manner which I find offensive, I have no problem cutting you up and using you as fertilizer for the garden. If you can remember that, we'll have no problems."

His relaxation is gone and his face becomes serious. "Understood."

I nod, closing the door, then stop. "Oh, and Jacob?"

He turns to face me, beginning to shrug off his jacket.

"You might hear some noises up here, but it's nothing to be afraid of."

"House settling?"

I grin. "Something like that." And with that, I close the door and leave him for the night.

**~. . . . -=|=- . . . .~**

**[A Few Weeks Later]**

At first, Bella didn't take kindly to having a stranger in the house. May slept with us that night and the following week because I couldn't find it in my heart to send Jacob on his way. I found myself wanting to talk to him, wanting to know what he knew about the outside world. He said he didn't remember much before the war. He and his father lived in Portland at the time, and remembers nothing but traveling from city to city down the west coast, searching for civilization. They never found much except ruin, ash and bodies.

They stayed in abandoned buildings and tried to live off whatever they found, but mostly ended up going hungry. After the explosions, cities were bled dry within months so it didn't surprise me when he said there was hardly anything. He was so young to experience life on the road. I'd guess fifteen years.

"I need to get some air," I say to him, drawn to the noise out the shack doors. I place my knife on the table as he continues to cut into the deer carcass, the first we've had this spring. "Keep going, you're doing good. Don't force the knife; gentle motions, but firm." I put my hand on his and demonstrate. He nods once and eases the tension from his fingers to the handle, slitting the skin from the meat. "There you go."

I pat his shoulder, smiling. His forehead glistens with sweat; his dark eyes seem to laugh when he grins. There's so much life, so much spirit in this boy. It's contagious.

I lean against the frame of the shack, breathing the fresh air. May and Bella kneel at the corner of the garden, picking herbs. I don't interfere with their interaction, only marvel at their similarities. They share the same profile, their straight noses and dainty chins, even their lips are the same. Her red-brown hair reflects the sun, almost glimmering; the only part of me.

Bella picks through the basil, then tucks it into her and May's apron pockets before leaning in and whispering into her ear. May's smile appears, mimicking Bella's, and I know what's been said.

_"Why do you do that?" I asked as I watched her stand after stuffing the freshly plucked herb into her dress pocket._

_"For protection," she said, her eyes falling away from mine for a moment before lifting once more. _

_"Does that work?"_

_She laid a hand on her swollen belly and said, "It brought you here."_

Of all the places I could've ended up, it had to be here, on this road, in this house with this woman. She gave birth to our daughter – a child with more mental and emotional strength than me at her age. She carries on with her life, as if this survival is normal. Hunger isn't known. Greed doesn't exist between us. There are no what-ifs, there's only what tomorrow brings. There's purity and light in her heart, while sadness and anger consume mine, but I'm getting better.

She's her own future after we're gone. Perhaps by then, the old world will be underway. People will put trust in others and come together. May will be next to them. A new generation. This gives me hope.

"How does this look, sir?"

I turn away from the fresh air as Jacob turns the carcass on the line to face me. The entire deer has been skinned. I step closer to inspect his work, running a finger along the newly exposed muscles. It's impeccable: no cuts in the meat whatsoever.

"This is perfect. Have you done this before?"

"Never."

"Well, you're already a pro." I pat his back. "C'mon, let's get out of this heat, drink some water, then I'll show you how to cut it all up. Maybe we can talk Bella into a roast tonight."

As I shut the doors to the shack, I'm drawn to May's laughter in the garden. Bella stands, the breeze caught in her hair, a shallow wicker basket hanging from her hands as she watches our little girl skip down the plowed row to pick a single tomato from the vine. Her little dress swings around her knees as she skips back. Bella takes the bright red tomato from her small hand, and as if called, she looks up at me, still smiling. It fades to a grin, lighting up once more as if she and I our sharing the same thought.

Of all the places I could've ended up, it was here. It had to be this house, these choices, this life. We were so wrong for each other; the farm girl who never saw anything, and the soldier who witnessed more than he ever wanted to see. But, we smile because there's no other place we'd rather be.

We're home.

* * *

><p><em>Musical inspiration<em>:  
>Metamorphosis Two by Philip Glass<p> 


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